Don't Leave
by dontcatchme
Summary: War has been a way of life in Troy Bolton's family for countless generations. It was an unquestionable tradition he was expected to honor. But with love in the equation, the lines of family obligations, true devotion, and fair promises are blurred.
1. A Midnight Visit

**Title:**_ Don't Leave_

**Rating:** M, just for safety in upcoming chapters.

**Summary: **Troy and Gabriella were the perfect couple, deeply in life-changing love. As graduation approaches, change and heartbreak looms in the future. And as life-shattering decisions are made impulsivly, decisions that cannot quickly be taken back, Troy and Gabriella face the impossible: seperation. And that is only the beginning of their tragic love story.

**A/N:** **I know right now you're most likely gonna skip over this little paragraph, probably about to check out the beginning of my story to see if it is any good or if I'm just another mindless wanna-be writer. But for the select few of you that actually care what I'm about to say for some reason I cannot fathom, allow me to introduce myself. **

**For those of you that aren't familiar with my work, my name is Kiwi (a nickname) and my screen name is dontcatchme, as you probably already gathered. Yada yada yada, actually, most of this type of stuff can be found on my page, so check there if you would like to know more about me, which is unlikely. **

**I know I'm not a well known writer here, only publishing four stories so far, and I know for a fact that there are lots - and I mean LOTS - of other well known writers with AMAZING stories on here that you would probably enjoy more. No doubt you would. And if you click out of this page now, truthfully, I wouldn't blame you. Really, I wouldn't. But what I'm gonna ask, and I hope this doesn't come off as needy or anything, is that you don't. You probably don't care what I want, but it would really mean the world to me if you do by a twisted streek of fate read my story. It'd probably make my day. **

**Ok, with that said, let me cut to the chase and stop jabbing your ear off. **

**And without any further introduction ( thankfully for you! ) here is, Don't Leave_._ **

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_"I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you, _

_And all the lonliness I would go through,_

_But if you wanna leave I won't stop you,_

_'Cause I don't want you if you don't want me,_

_To be the one, the only one, you wanna run to,_

_Baby boy you know I've just begun to_

_Realize what's important to me_

_So don't leave, don't leave." -_

**Don't Leave, Vanessa Hudgens**

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Need.

Not just want, like a physical, matirialistic want, but a need. A nessecity. Somthing that you crave, something that you need to breathe properly, something so precious that without it, you feel incomplete, weak. And when you don't get that specific item, the world might as well crash and burn around you.

And Troy Bolton certainly_ needed_ her at that moment.

He needed to hold her, to kiss her, to rub his hand over her delicate and soft skin. He needed to look into her gorgeous chocolate orbs and be absorbed in them to the point where he forgot everything that was going on in his life.

But unfortunately she was not present.

Troy fought very hard to hold in the liquid that wanted to fall from his eyes and ignored the pain that surfaced in his chest at that thought.

He looked up, staring at the mundane ceiling that lacked color. He closed his eyes tight and took a deep, calming breath. His body shook from it, and he almost lost control of his tears. But he was a Bolton, a MAN, and that didn't happen to him. He never acted in a vulnerable or exposed way. It just wasn't in his -correction- it wasn't _supposed_ to be in his blood. But often Troy found himself dealing with sadness and hurt, that only one perfect girl could fix... that only one girl could him and make it all better... one girl...

Which brings us back to the fact that she, is not here.

Troy Bolton was the youngest in his family, therefore more of the '_being a man'_ burden was left to collapse on his shoulders. He was the youngest, directly below the oldest, meaning that he was alive to prove the whole _'youngest the baby'_ theory a lie. You may think the fearless job may fall more on the elder child, but not in this case.

Nope, no such luck for Troy Bolton.

He closed his eyes tight at the thought. He could be strong and brave, that wasn't a problem. He had been through all of his short, uneventful life. When you were a Bolton, you weren't allowed _not_ to be. But there was one thing, the thing that was expected of him the most, that he just could not fulfill.

He could not join the army.

He just couldn't. Could not. He knew it was a family "tradition" for each young Bolton to fight in their generation's war, but he just could not bring himself to go through with it, and finally sign up for the dreaded duty. For a short while, Troy had had the excuse of being too young, but now the good ole days of excuses and happiness were over.

His time was up.

His internal timer had been ticking faster and faster lately, till it hit the big one-eight. Now that it had hit that ghastly number, Troy's father had been delighted and Troy himself, depressed. For the last several weeks, or since his eighteenth birthday had come and gone, Troy had been crestfallen. His magnificent cerulean eyes never held any happiness anymore, they were just a melancholy pit of darkness. Besides, of course, the one exception... But he could not think of THAT right now. Not when he was already so close to the edge of emotion.

No one understood why he had been so gloomy lately, except for the very few people close to him. But there was just so much going through his mind! How was he going to tell his father he was not going to join the army? How would his father react? Sure, he'd mentioned it to him thousands of times in the past during bouts of anger, but he was almost completely positive that his dad did not take him seriously then.

He would soon enough though.

He had to, since Troy's high school graduation was tomorrow, and Troy knew that now that school was over, he was expected to sign up any day now. He knew for certain his father was counting the days with giddiness.

What a shock it would be to his fathers system when Troy never made an effort to sign up.

He was confident that there would be countless fights, like before, but unlike before they would be much more aggressive and probably harsher. He knew that his family members would be put in the middle, and while that was unfortunate and not something Troy nessecerily wanted, he knew it was inevitable. He knew that his father would most likely hate his guts, but Troy could live with that -at least he was pretty sure he could.

It had always drove him crazy, the tension between him and his father. But after a while, Troy had gotten used to it. Just like a huge hole in your T-shirt. You didn't like it, but you learned to deal with it until the time came to take it off or throw it away.

And that's exactly what Troy was doing now. He was 'taking his father off', so to speak. He was ridding himself of the problems and complications. For the time being, at least. His father couldn't hate him forever, right?

Troy gulped hard as worry and stress built in his stomach. He didn't know if that was true, and it frightened the hell out of him.

Troy figured he should not be worrying and concering himself with such things right now, but he couldn't help himself. He guessed he should've been enjoying his last night as a kid in high school, and not thinking of the agony and frustration tomorrow was sure to bring. Not think of the extensive blow-out that he was certain he and his father would exchange. Not think of his brother, who always had the spotlight and never included Troy in his glory. Not think about his poor and burdened mother, would had had to struggle for the past five or six years with Troy and his father's fighting and try unsuccessfully not to take sides. Not think of his supportive friends, who were there for him through a lot of crap, most caused by his father, even though few of them knew the truth about his feelings toward war. Not think about his one true love who was more important to him that anything... who he had unselfishly sacrificed him and his father's relationship for... who he wanted so desperately to see right then...

Scratch that. He could think about _her_ all he wanted.

How could his father ever even_ think_ that he would be capable of leaving her? Was he insane? She was his life! Without her, he didn't know how he would have survived the last three emotionally shaky years. His father's constant pressure and his brother's never-ending failures in life that set the worst example would have been way too much for Troy to handle alone. Luckily he had the support of an amazing girl, which made his life not perfect, but bearable.

Troy sighed, the anger at his father building into a tower of hate in his stomach and showing up as hot tears in his eyes.

But he would not let them fall. He would not. He was a Bolton, damn it! They never did this. He wasn't breed from infancy to being like this, tender and affectionate.

He stared down at his white and red colored bedspread, his eyes seeing it but not truly realizing it. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed, so his right hand now supported the weight of his walnut shag. He tried to no success to block out his thoughts. He was even having trouble blocking out the most heartachingly poisonous thing of all... her name.

Yes, Troy was playing what he called 'The No-Name' game. It was the easiest antidote for mending his broken heart after heated discussions with his dad, without actually feeling the pain of not being with his goddess.

You see, it was easier on his bleeding heart to just not think her name at all. Or say it aloud. After fighting with his father, he almost always can't think or breathe at all -it hurt too much. The anger that filled him always contracted around his heart and turned into sadness. So he most definitely could not think of her, and especially not her angelic name. That would only increase the heartache he felt, which was something he could not deal with. Certainly not in the vulnerable state he was in after one of their fights -much like how he was presently.

Therefore he needed to not think of her name... he needed to not process it... he needed to not contemplate it...

But devastatingly for him, her name was already bubbling in his mind... like a giant bomb waiting to explode, and then hit his heart with an atomic _boom_ that would make it break into tiny, little pieces. Yes, her name was on the tip of his tongue... he was fighting the urge to think it, but he knew that it was bound to happen anyways. Might as well just spill it_,_ he thought to himself.

_Gabriella_.

There. He had thought the taboo word. And now there was no way to escape the icy burn at his heart or the extra liquid that magically appeared in his eyes as if on cue.

He decided that he without question needed her. He needed to talk to her, at least. Especially right at that moment, when he was so confused and stirred. Gabriella always had a way of calming him down and soothing him. Her chocolate brown, gorgeous eyes could basically do it for him, but her soft, sweet voice telling him it was alright was just icing on the cake.

He sat up and his large tanned hands reached for the phone. But right when he was about to grab it, he hesitated. Did he really want to just talk to her? No. His melting heart needed to see her in person.

His cerulean eyes looked back and forth, as if checking if the coast was clear. Of course it was, he was banished to the confines of his room for the entire night, and no one would think to check on him. He grinned and his heart skipped a few beats... yes, just _thinking _about seeing her made him do that. But he couldn't help it...

Love is love.

He smiled to himself, knowing that his fights with his dad had their advantages... particularly undetected time with Gabriella. He jumped off his bed with new found excitment, an added adrenaline rushing through his veins at the thought of being near Gabriella... alone. Her mother, of course, would not be present. Gabriella's mother never was. In fact, Troy had only met her on certain occasions, for she was always traveling for her work and such, never really having enough time to spend with her daughters.

Yes, it was a truly sad and unfortunate thing, but at that moment Troy was glad the house was going to be unoccupied.... Did that make him selfish? Maybe so. Troy already knew he was a selfish person; he was selfish when it came to spending time with Gabriella.

So, with his mission in mind, he went to his bedroom window, opening it wide enough for him to fit through and shoved himself out. His house was a two story but Troy had the only bedroom one the first story while his parents occupied the only one on the second story. His older brother, Henry, lived in the basement.

Once hitting the cold, wet grass of his pampered lawn he balanced himself out and started off for Gabriella's house, which was exactly two miles away. Though the distance didn't matter to Troy. It could have been across the Atlantic ocean, and he still would have hitched a ride on an exporting boat or traveling shark. Whichever was faster. The distance didn't matter when he was getting something so good and wonderful in return.

Once off his parents property and in full safety zone, Troy began to sprint. He was a fit kid, and always had been, mostly because of basketball and the fact that Troy's father is the basketball coach at his high school. Therefore Troy was practically forced into that as well. However, he actually enjoyed basketball, it was a release for him. Whenever something stressful went on at school or at home, especially lately with his father pushing him harder and harder to join the military, he could always devote all his negative feelings into basketball, and things would eventually get set in perspective in Troy's mind and he could think straight. Gabriella could have that affect on him too, but in a whole different way.

His heart pounded ferociously against his stone chest as he gained speed and bounded down the sidewalk, passing house after house. In the darkness of the night it was hard to see, even with his cerulean eyes squinting fiercely. Soon though, he came upon the highway intersection that was located near his neighborhood. Okay_, _he thought as he stopped and heaved a sigh of exhaustion -thank god he was in shape. One mile down, one to go_. _He already felt a special dizziness in his heart at the thought of seeing his lover.

Troy stood there for a few seconds, his angelic chest breathing heavily, his heart pulsating at what seemed a thousand beats per minute. He waited for the intersection light to turn red, and the few cars that were on the street at this time of night stopped, and waited patiently for Troy to pass.

He dashed across the street, his breathing ragged. He knew he should stop to catch his breath but he didn't give a damn. Gabriella was only a mile away, he couldn't slow down now.

Finally, after what seemed like ages to Troy, he reached Gabriella's neighborhood. She was just a street away. Well, six houses to be exact.

He felt his heart flutter at the mere thought as it spun through his mind.

He jogged down the sidewalk, the thump of his Vans echoing powerfully in the extremely silent neighborhood. He eyed the houses with slight curiosity. What kind of neighborhood was _completely_ silent like this? It was almost a little frightening. Sure, his neighborhood was nice and quiet, but it still wasn't silent! Even at the late hours of the night, you could still hear the gentle whisper of the wind passing through the trees and the curious and ravenous raccoons digging with their sharp nails through the trash cans.

A few minutes later, Troy came upon the sight he had been dying to see.

Gabriella's house.

The beautiful brick house was almost castle like in its elegance. The entry way to this gorgeous creation was lined with yellow lilies and daisy's, adding a special summer touch. The cement walkway was like stepping into another world-a world where his love lived. He tiptoed quietly up the pathway to the front door, as if the very sound of his heavy footsteps might make the magnificent sight go away and never return.

He approached the door, his heart thumping busily in his chest. He knocked softly on the door, not wanting to disturb anyone. He knew for a fact that Ms. Montez was out of town at the moment, but Gabriella's younger sister, Elizabeth, should still be home and he definitely did not want to awake her. He was coming over unannounced, after all.

He heard the sound of someone approaching the door and could almost _sense_ it would be Gabriella before the door pinched wide a crack.

And he was correct.

As the large white door opened and his girlfriend of three years came into view, Troy felt like the air had literally JUMPED out of his lungs. He felt love boil inside his stone chest and his palms suddenly became clammy. He took a deep, calming breath in order to keep his bouncing heart under control. It felt like it was going to leap from his chest. He swallowed, trying desperately to get liquid back into his mouth, for it had become dry. His heart beat unsteadily and his azure orbs filled with happiness.

Just the usual feelings Gabriella Montez gave Troy Bolton.

But really, who could blame him?

She was the goddess of East High, and had been for approaximately three years now. And as Troy gawked at her slim figure, the moonlight casting a dark shadow on her olive skin, it was not hard to guess why.

Gabriella Montez was gorgeous, and saying that is not being generous at all. Truthfully, there is no word in the dictionary to describe her unique beauty. Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful... they all had great implications, but none of them seemed to capture her straight on. Troy was still looking for a word that could do just that. But, considering that Troy is left breathless every time he even looks at her, that task might prove quite hard.

Troy tried not to let the drool escape from his mouth as he took in the full essence of her appearance. She had on a light white tank top that hugged to her amazing curves perfectly, as well as highlighted her breasts. On her slender, olive colored shoulders an old Wildcats jacket of Troy's from the previous year hung loosely. And covering her muscled, tiny legs was a pair of black pajama shorts. She looked dazzling, even with the quizzical expression on her face and sleepiness in her eyes.

Fortunately Troy realized all this within a fraction of a second, so he did not leave the clueless Gabriella in silence for too long.

"Troy... what are you doing here?" Her soft, angelic voice spoke in a slightly sleepy tone and Troy couldn't help but chuckle. Of course she knew what he was doing there. She always knew. There had been another pointless fight and Troy needed Gabriella to fix the pieces of his breaking heart. His late night visits were becoming all too regular nowadays... not that either of them were complaining.

"Hey baby... do you mind if I come in?" His voice was as soft as honey yet husky in the cool night air.

"No. No, not at all." She shook her head tiredly and held the door open, allowing Troy to stroll inside. "Come on in."

As Troy walked past the staircase that was behind the door and to the breathtaking living room, the hostess in Gabriella suddenly came out and she rushed to his side to make him more comfortable. She assembled a few pillows neatly on the beige couch, trying to make it look nice, because she had just been sleeping there. She had fallen asleep on the couch while watching some late night comedy reruns, the thought of Troy arriving unexpectedly not even appearing once in her mind. Well, in her defense she had other things on her plate as well.

Troy almost grinned at her sweetness. (It was difficult to grin just yet.) That was one of the qualities he loved about her. Here, she thought that she needed to make her already impeccable home spotless when he was around, although all that really mattered to him was her presence. They could be sitting in a straw hut for all Troy cared.

"We had another fight," Troy announced unnecessarily, his blue eyes showing raw pain. He didn't know why... but for some unknown reason him and his father's fights always got to him. He was vulnerable, and he hated it. He despised being the only male Bolton that could actually show his feelings... that actually HAD feelings.

Troy was always just as enraged each time him and his father fought. It was like each time it was a shock to his system, each fight more damaging than the next. And one day, Troy knew they were both going to explode from the anger. He just didn't know when. It was like each time he was around his father he was walking on pins and needles trying to not make him too angry, so there would not be that type of blowout. Though it really was for nothing, since the fights were happening anyway. He just didn't want them to escalate to anything bigger... for his mother's sake, mostly. But it was unavoidable, really, since graduation was right around the corner -literally- and the big blowout Troy had been anticipating was bound to happen soon after that. It was just a matter of time.

Troy sat down on the comfy couch and Gabriella sat down next to him, a worried expression on her perfect features. She was genuinely torn up about the fights Troy and his father had. She didn't know how to help him. She was useless, basically. He was obviously in agony over the spats but she had no idea how to console him. She could tell him she loved and cared for him, yes, but none of that would actually FIX the problem. And Gabriella was a fixer, making it twice as hard for her to sit and do nothing. But she knew for a fact that if she ever confronted Mr. Bolton about this... it would only make the fights more catastrophic. And she might even lose Troy's trust, which was something she definitely did not want to even fathom.

She looked at him, her butterscotch eyes searching. "Troy, baby... " Her voice was silk and compassionate. Troy laid his muscular back against the sofa and let out a deep sigh and she noticed that his breath was close to shaky. Gabriella laid her luscious black locks on his chest, her head resting on his thumping heart. It was a very symbolic pose. She curled her arms tightly around his body, knowing that all he really needed right now was love.

Which was good, because that's all she knew how to give him.

"You know I love you right?" Gabriella asked him, needing to know he believed in her. He rapped his stone like arms around her in response and rested his beautiful face against her hair, breathing in her strawberry shampoo, which she used daily because it was his favorite.

"Yeah... I love you too, Gabi."

"I know.... Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked hesitantly. She knew how much he hated talking about him and his father's relationship, and especially their fighting. But with Gabriella, it was easier for him to open up. She understood, and didn't judge him. She had problems of her own, too. Everyone has issues, after all, but Troy was a perfect example of imperfection. His life was catastrophically imperfect... but Gabriella saw past that. She saw the real Troy. The sweet, caring, slightly vulnerable Troy that he showed to no one, unless, of course, their name was Gabriella.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Nah, it was just a regular fight. A commercial came on the TV after dinner for the U.S Army, and of course he had to make a big deal about it. Basically saying that if you don't go, you're not a man. So naturally I got agitated and we ended up yelling at each other and I was banished to my room." Troy willed the tears not to well up in his azure eyes, and so far it was working. Hey, maybe he WAS a Bolton after all.

The room was silent, and Gabriella snuggled up farther into his chest. They were both sprawled across the long couch in her living room, laying comfortably and entangled in one another. Suddenly, the grandfather clock that was stationed behind them on the light green wall chimed one o'clock AM. Troy sighed, knowing they had been up way too late for the events that would happen tomorrow. They were graduating.

Yippy.

He should feel excited, accelerated, he told himself. He should be thrilled. High school is ending tomorrow. Freedom and independence, right?

So why was he so damn depressed?

He didn't need to ask himself that question. He already knew the answer;

It was because tomorrow was the start of freedom for everyone else. But for Troy it was the exact opposite.

Tomorrow would only increase the fights between him and his father, and only increase the stress he was under. It was not a pleasant idea. Troy wished for so many reasons that he could stay in high school forever. Never grow up. He knew it was a childish fantasy, but it was a good fantasy, damn it! If he stayed in high school forever, nothing would ever change. His relationship with Gabriella would never change, they would always have each other. Distance would never be a factor. They wouldn't have to be separated through college or career paths... not to mention the army. He would never be forced to leave his friends, his family. Nothing would ever change, nothing would ever be ruined.

Life would be perfect.

Gabriella was the only thing keeping him here. He couldn't leave her, the thought was unbearable and right now so far off that it seemed impossible. She was just too important to him. Sure, he didn't want to leave his friends either, but friends were, well... friends. They may miss each other, but could cope and function without the other. With lovers, it wasn't so easy. Not easy at all, in fact. Troy didn't want a long distance relationship, and he didn't want to risk having no relationship at all either. If Troy left, he couldn't ask -or expect- Gabriella to wait for him. It was downright unfair. Despite how Gabriella might plea, he would not do it. Couldn't do it.

"It's one..." he stated the obvious, distracting himself from getting lost in his thoughts. Her head nodded in response. "I'm sorry I kept you up so late. We have a big day tomorrow and I shouldn't have come over like this."

"No, no, it's completely okay Troy. I don't care what time it is, I just want to be with you when you're hurting." She snuggled her head deeper to his chest, absorbing his warmth.

He held her tighter, if that was even possible, love scorching through his veins. "Thanks. For... well, everything. For being with me every night. It really means a lot. I mean... I don't know what I'd do without you Brie." Sincerity sounded in his soft, gentle voice that almost hypnotized her.

"No problem." She smiled. She lifted her head up off his muscular chest and met his lips. Their kiss was soft and tender... soon turning more urgent as Troy placed his hand on her lower back, rubbing gingerly. Gabriella felt their sparks ignite and her heart skip beats.

But that was just the usual affect he had on her. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Soon they both pulled back reluctantly after several minutes, their bodies both panting heavily and grinning. Troy's light blue eyes scanned over Gabriella's sexy body, aroused. He had to fight the urge to pin her underneath him at that very second, he was that attracted to her. For other people, the attire she was sporting might not be a turn-on... but for Troy, EVERYTHING she wore was a turn-on. And that's not just because he was male. It helped that Gabriella resembled a Greek goddess most of the time as well.

Gabriella smirked as she saw Troy lick his lips and eye the curves on her body. She was pressed up against him now, her tiny, fragile arms laying over his waist, his strong, muscled arms over hers, lying gracefully on her back. She felt so content in that pose, like nothing could ever hurt her.

Troy leaned down once more, attempting to connect their lips in what he hoped would be a heated kiss. Instead, Gabriella moved her head away, giggling at his bewildered expression.

"We can't do this here baby, I'm sorry." She tried not to let the grin show on her gorgeous features as Troy looked down at her as if he was a little kid who had just found out there's no Santa Clause. She had to resist the temptation to close his shocked and open-mouthed pout with her lips, but rules were rules. They were there for a reason, at that time it was a reason Gabriella didn't want to understand, but a reason.

"Wha.. why not?" he sulked, half playful-half serious, his cerulean eyes and sad expression reminding Gabriella of a lost puppy dog. But she had already decided, this was not the time nor the place. On her living room couch at one in the morning with her younger sister sleeping soundly upstairs? No way on God's green earth. Sure, it sounded hot at the time... but would surely be something she would regret later when her mother took up space on this couch the next day to do paperwork and all Gabriella could think about was what her and Troy had been doing on that couch the previous night or if her sister came down to get a glass of water or something and walked in on them. It was simply too risky.

Gabriella proved once again that she was still that chaste and careful girl she had been when she met Troy three years ago. Yeah, she wasn't as innocent as she had been before, but she still preserved that innocence somewhere deep inside her.

"Because one, we're on my mother's couch. And two, Ellie is asleep upstairs." Oh right... her sister. Her residence in this household had totally slipped Troy's brain. Oops.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry, I completely forgot she was even here."

"It's okay... just don't let Ellie hear that." She smirked to herself at her younger sister Elizabeth's -Ellie for short- fondness for her boyfriend. She liked to pretend that she paid no attention whatsoever to the two lovebirds, but Gabriella knew that Ellie secretly had a crush on Troy. For one thing, when she had first brought Troy home to meet her family, Ellie's eyes had litterally almost leaped out of her head at her sexy new god like boyfriend. At first she had just dismissed it as new hormones for her younger sister, who was just then beginning middle school. But soon Gabriella realized it was not just that. Ellie had an all out, full blown _crush _on Troy Bolton. And it made Gabriella want to cackle with laughter.

Sometimes, much to her entertainment, she would catch glimpses of her younger sister staring at his picture adoringly or while having a conversation with her sister that involved Troy, more than once had Ellie slipped and made a off-hand comment about Troy's hotness. Not that this was news to Gabriella though. She knew that everyone was in love with her boyfriend.

Who wouldn't be?

Of course she would never say that aloud to Ellie, in fear of hurting her feelings or jeopardizing their trusting relationship. But still, it was pretty hard not to get a kick out of Ellie's adoration for Gabriella's basketball playing boyfriend. Though Ellie would never, ever say it out loud, Gabriella knew the truth. And so did Troy... though Gabriella had promised him to secrecy. No way was she letting that get back to her sister. It'd only embarrass the crap out of her. So for now she'd just enjoy her sister's "secret" crush from afar... it was much more amusing that way anyway.

Troy sighed dramatically, obviously annoyed with Gabriella's sister's presence. Gabriella pouted at him, and the corners of his mouth turned up, though he tried very hard to fight it.

"I'm sorry babe... maybe tomorrow night?" Gabriella knew Troy wasn't a horn dog-he could wait a night without physically exploding. But on the other hand, he was a guy. A guy with very intense hormones and a very sexual mind... not to mention a very attractive Latina girlfriend. Yep, he was gonna have a hard time sleeping tonight.

Oh well... just more to look forward to tomorrow, she guessed.

Tomorrow. In other words, graduation.

The two words sent shivers and bolts of electric excitement springing through her bones. Graduation. It meant so much to some people, but more than anything to her. She was going to be an adult. Okay, maybe she had been an adult for a while now by law, but now she'd be an official adult. One who could make her own decisions and didn't have to live in her nearly uninhabited house or do the menial jobs her mother felt were so very important. No, she wouldn't have to take orders from her extremely unqualified and insanely assiduous mother anymore. Freedom was ringing it's bell loud and clear, and Gabriella couldn't wait to hop on that band-wagon to independence, work, and living it big. Or... away from her mother is more like it.

Troy nodded his brunette shag, lifting his tight and sculpted body off the comfy beige couch. "Well... I better get going..."

He truly didn't want to leave Gabriella's home, his safe haven, one of the very few he had, and it wasn't like he had anything else to do, but he really didn't want to take away from Gabriella's day tomorrow by making her extremely tired for the ceremony or something to that effect. Although he would have loved to stay and chat, -actually more than chat- he knew that Gabi and him both would regret it in the early morning, when the deadly sound of the alarm sounded, awakening them from their childhood and throwing them into the harsh and unfriendly world of adulthood and maturity.

It wasn't fair.

But it was life. So Troy was just gonna have to grin and bear it.

"But I don't want you to..." Gabriella slightly whined, but the look of sleepiness was evident in her chocolate orbs.

"No, it's okay. We have an early morning tomorrow babe, and I don't want your mom coming home in the early hours of the morning to find us in bed together. Even if we are just sleeping." He smirked, it sending shivers up and down Gabriella's spine. She extended her slim arms up to Troy's risen body, her body hungry for some tender affection.

"Troy..." She really whined this time, imitating the childish antics of a seven year old. "Don't leave me..." Troy grasped her miniature hands in his large ones and held them delicately and playfully while he soothed her moping face.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning baby, for graduation," The simple sentence didn't seem to satisfy the pouting Gabriella, so he chuckled lightly and added, "and I'll call you as soon as I wake up."

She smiled brightly and spoke cutely and innocently to him, her dimples making her look even more childlike and naive. "Better."

He picked her skinny body off the couch and brought her so her smiling lips were just inches from his. "Yeah?" His voice was husky and whispering, the word descending softly from his tongue, his minty and delicious breath blowing against her face.

"Yeah..." She whispered, almost in a trance brought on by his hypnotic cerulean eyes. She stood on her tip-toes and brought her hands to rest on his sturdy shoulders, becoming eye level with him for once. As his arms wrapped protectively around her waist, their lips met in a tender yet astoundingly loving and heated kiss.

The pair pulled apart after a few moments, just to admiringly stare into each other's absorbing eyes, never wanting to let go but knowing the separation was inevitable. Inevitable this time, just like it would be inevitable the next time and the next time and the time after that. But the real and truly heartbreaking thing is, none of this had to be inevitable. If they had just grasped the seriousness of the days that would eventually follow, none of this would have occurred. Not the heartbreak or the depressing state or the backstabbing... None of it. But without those unfortunate occurrences taking place, we wouldn't have a very consuming or life-changing story, now would we?

Also, without these tragic string of events, Troy and Gabriella would never have had the chance to learn the extremely valuable lessons they ended up learning, lessons most people go forever without having the privilege of acquiring.

Therefore, as Troy's body descended farther and farther away from the dim light of Gabriella's doorstep, and disappeared completely into the blackening moonlight, neither knew what trials lay before them. Neither knew that the decisions they would make very soon or the consequences that followed would be the things that would plague them for the rest of their lives. Gabriella certainly had not the slightest idea that things would very soon change drastically between the two, as she rested her drowsy head against the door frame, the outline of a smile playing on her lips. Troy had no clue as well, as he made his way onto the sidewalk, surrounded by barely lit street lights.

No, most definitely, neither knew that as soon as Gabriella closed the door softly on the chilly summer night breeze, and as Troy continued his short journey home in the blackness of the night, they were not only destined to say goodbye to childhood and high school the next morning at the graduation ceremony, they were destined to say goodbye to another thing. The very thing that was their lives, their hopes, their dreams, their homes, their... everything. Basically all they had come to know for the past three years.

Each other.


	2. Graduation

**Hey! Thanks so much for reading. It means the world to me. And if you could, please tell me what you think of this chapter. Sorry it took so long. I was feeling extremely unmotivated and detached from the Fanfiction world. And I get easily distracted on top of that, so... that's my fault. There's just so many wonderful things to do on a computer! But I solemnly swear that I'll try my hardest to update earlier next time.**

**I have to warn you, I took my crack at a little bit of an "M" rated scene. It isn't much, barely anything, and you'll all be like 'that wasn't anything!' when you see it. I guess you could say it's a fade-to-black type of scene. I don't know how I feel about it. It's not bad or anything, not too much detail.. but... well... I can't even find the words. Just read it for yourself.**

**As always, thanks from the bottom of my heart to whoever is reading. You're awesome. **

* * *

_"Love is a condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." _

~~~**~~~

* * *

He exhaled.

Inhaled, exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled.

This was so not as easy as he thought it would be.

Red and white went on for miles it seemed, as Troy's azure eyes scanned the crowd of graduates and sobbing family members. His stomach felt tight with unpleasant knots, his nerves getting the best of him. Here, everyone else there looked happy, delighted even. They looked like this was exactly where they wanted to be; on the pathway to their dreams.

And then there was Troy, looking as confused and dazed as a lost puppy in a swarm of vicious Pit Bulls.

Typical.

Once again the youngest Bolton felt the dreaded feeling of failure and vulnerability.

Also quite typical.

He sucked in a short breath, the blonde hairs at the nape of his neck tingling with anticipation. The valedictorian for his class was giving her speech at the moment, and while that should have grabbed his attention right of the bat given who the valedictorian was, he was putting all his current strength into _concentrating_ on the speech, so much that he hadn't actually got to _listen_ to it.

"East High has been our school, our home, our safe place for so long that, for me included, it's hard to say goodbye," Gabriella's sweet and acute sounding voice infiltrated the buzzing gymnasium. Camera's that were being held in the hands of beaming parents were clicking non-stop, some teachers were grinning proudly at their student prodigies while others were trying to get the ones that still found armpit farts funny to pipe down and listen.

It would be the last order they would ever give to those East High Wildcats.

But overall, the attention of the Wildcats seated in the main auditorium was focused completely and utterly on their dark haired fellow peer, much to her surprise and their now-former teachers.

You would have thought they'd have broken out in song by now.

"However," she continued on, and Troy tried his best to tame his wild thoughts and listen to Gabriella's slightly nervous voice, "we know with absolute certainty that it can only get better from here. We can only move up on the ladder to success. Now, we have more experience, more knowledge in lots of different aspects of our lives. East High made it easy on us to develop good characteristics. They taught us how to be our own person, whether that was a drama queen, singing jock or influential brainiac. They taught us we could be both. East High taught us not to stick to the status cue. And now, it's time for us to honor their name and legacy by trying and doing our best when we get out in the real world. By doing what East High educated us most on and being ourselves. I know it sounds really corny, but that's actually what's going to help us out there. It's going to help us as we evolve, expand our knowledge and delve deep into the world of the unknown."

She stared out at all her fellow classmates, a sweetly soft smile taking hold of her face as she saw countless absorbed students throughout the auditorium.

"Wildcats, we're growing up."

Bingo. Fears broadcasted. Troy felt like Gabriella had hand-selected him as her science fair project and dissected his innermost feelings live on national TV. He knew she didn't do it purposely, and was utterly oblivious to exactly how Troy felt, but still. It wasn't a particularly enjoyable feeling that washed over him.

It wasn't the growing up that bothered him; it was what growing up _entitled_. Not responsibilities per se, but the responsibility that _he_ was supposed to take hold of. The mere thought of it made him nauseously sick.

"And guys, let me tell you, it's gonna be one hell of a ride. Will it be a little scary, a little intimidating reaching for our goals in the big world? Sure. But will it be fulfilling in the end? Absolutely. Don't be scared to take hold of every opportunity, due to fear or intimidation, because... well, you never know what that opportunity might have led to. Because the ones that love you most, are gonna be right beside you supporting you the whole way."

She looked right at Troy when she said that, her eyes searching. She wanted something, a reaction from Troy perhaps. Or maybe she just wanted him to know that know that things may change, and he needed to accept that. But either way, Troy just sat there, his stone chest like a sculpture, his face solid, emotionally unmovable marble.

If his father had looked over by a bizarre stroke of luck and seen his son's response, it would have made him proud.

That would have been a first.

Gabriella averted her strong gaze, and placed it once again upon the rest of her grade. She continued on, seemingly unfazed by Troy's unfeelingness. "So I ask you Wildcats, to live in the moment; because it's gone in the blink of an eye. We need to _'seize the day'_ or carpe diem, to be correct."

Troy sneakily twisted his torso in the direction of where his family was seated. The gymnasium was as crowded as ever, but his family stood out in a crowd. They were always out of place, sort of. Like the family didn't match up. Well, his parents were as different as night in Israel and day in New York city, which probably contributed to that fact.

His mother, Lucille Bolton, was the stereotypical mother; what a mother should be. Dark, freely curly mocha hair with understanding brown eyes to go along with pale, aging skin. She was always there to lend a helping hand or a shoulder to lean on, and was quite involved in extra activities aside from her duty as a wife and mother. She ran the Albuquerque Mother's Book Club and was part of the PTA when Troy had been in school. Needless to say, she did it all.

Troy's father, former solider Jack Bolton, was amazingly contrary. He had scarce dark hair atop his tan head, and hard, apathetic eyes that held pain and regret. But most of all bitterness that was to be expressed through hatred and pressure. And having those creepily condescending eyes staring down at you preceding an extensive punishment was not necessarily comforting.

Troy's father, not at all to anyone's shock, was seated in the flip chair in the back of the auditorium with a hard line for a mouth and eyes showing no emotional connection that this was his youngest son's graduation, and were fixated solely on Gabriella giving her speech, though probably drowning it all out. Jack had always been the type of father that would take you out for a whooping at a family picnic, no matter if you were deeply humiliated or not. Jack didn't care. Jack was Jack; it was his way or the highway.

Admit to defeat or be conquered.

"But most importantly always remember where you came from. Remember who you are. Remember the people who love you most in the world, right here in our very own Albuquerque. Don't let life get to you, and never rely wholly on just material wealth and happiness. Because those things can be gone in a flash; like they never even existed. Let us remember who we are here, right now, in the moment. Let's not forget all those precious, somewhat embarrassing memories we made here at East High.

"Remember the first day of Freshman year? How nervous we all were?" There was a shuffle of nervous laughter that came from the crowd, mostly from the parents and family members most likely though, because the graduate's themselves were far too anxious to chuckle at anything, let alone themselves. "Remember how shell-shocked our faces must have been at the enormity of this school, and how anxious we were for every little thing?" Gabriella paused, letting the thought sink in. "Do you recall prom? For me personally, it was the most magical night, a night I will not soon forget. It just... it summed up everything so beautifully, didn't it? The memories, the good times, the bad... We all just came together for one special night, not letting social status's or the future get to us, and just lived... and the outcome was magnificent. I know, for me, that's probably the memory I'm most fond of from my whole high school experience."

Gabriella glanced down at her notes briefly, collecting her thoughts. She took a slight breath, knowing she was drawing to the close of her speech. "All we can do is hold on to the memories, the amazing times we had here at our beloved high school. That is all I can tell you. The rest you have to figure out on your own. It'll prove a difficult task, finding out who we truly are and where we belong, but East High helped a lot with that. It helped us discover what activities we enjoy, what clicks we fit into. Or maybe, we don't fit into a click at all. And there's nothing wrong with that... What I'm trying to say Wildcats, is that you can't rely on people to tell you who you are or where you belong, you have to draw that conclusion from life experience and such. It may sound cliché, but you have to find out for yourself who you are. And that, as has been proven, is one of the major keys to success."

Smiles were beginning to erupt from face to face in the large and stuffy auditorium, probably grinning at the fact that they already knew who they were; life should be a piece of cake. Little did they know how off they would prove to be.

"As for the rest... find it out for yourself." Now everyone was grinning from ear to ear -minus, of course, the frighteningly pale Troy Bolton- and low chatter could be heard coming from the seniors.

"Now," a rush of excitement and anticipation crackled through the room, and they all knew the exact words that were about to burst from the valedictorian's mouth, "it is my pleasure to present to you here today, the East High class of '08!"

The room was booming with thunderous applause in a matter of milliseconds. Cameras were clicking wildly, parents and siblings were running to hug their beloved sudden-adults while the alumni of East High were jumping up and down with pride and joy, rejoicing in the fact that they had accomplished one of their biggest trials yet: childhood.

Suddenly, the room was a fury of floating red hats with golden tassels. Abruptly, the room was filled with not minors, not kids, not teenagers, but diploma-holding, GED achieving _adults_.

It was the best feeling in the world for the majority of the forever-Wildcats.

Key word: majority.

Troy Bolton felt none of the above. Not excitement, not anticipation, not happiness. Instead he felt fright, pity and stress all bundled up in one to make him get an unpleasant queasy feeling in his abdomen and a unsteadily pumping heart in his heavenly chest.

Not a good way to start the next chapter in your life, Troy thought as he removed himself from the mob of ecstatic East High members, not good at all.

* * *

Gabriella maneuvered her way through each happy-go-lucky family till she found her own. She was over-the-moon ecstatic that her mother had been able to make it back from her business trip in New York that week. Maria had had to make a few cancellations that she wasn't too thrilled about and move some things around in order for her to attend her daughters special day, but in the end, she did in fact show her gleaming face at the East High ceremony.

Gabriella couldn't have asked for anything more.

Normally, Gabriella barely ever got to see her mother, so for her to be there to support her eldest daughter that day was a real gift. She weaved in and out of the crowd, her mocha irises landing on her petite and cheerfully overjoyed younger sister, Ellie, and her cautiously reserved mother, Maria. Gabriella's own flesh and blood met her at the aisle that she was about to enter and she eagerly threw her arms around the young girl.

"Ella!" the sixteen year old with a pretty face strikingly similar to Gabriella's and luscious midnight curls cascading down her upper back as well, screamed delighted as she eloped her sister in her skinny arms. Gabriella gleefully accepted the hug and willingly returned it with much enthusiasm.

She let go of her younger sister eventually, finally making eye contact with the oldest of the Montez woman. She eyed her mother's unreadable expression carefully, not quite sure whether to thrust herself into her arms or tentatively make conversation.

She hadn't seen her mother for over three weeks, after all.

But when her mothers face broke out in a wide grin she knew that she was in fact pleased, therefore she decided that the first option was indeed the best.

After being released from the clasp of her mothers grip, she stood back and simply basked in the moment of triumph and pride. This was _her _moment. Her time to shine. Finally, _finally_, after years of being the invisible one, the freaky math girl at school that was expected to expect to be ignored, she had, alas, gotten through that stage in her life, and was allowed to spread her wings of independence and go where ever life may take her.

She didn't share Troy's apprehensive view of the future. No, no she embraced the future head-on, jovially accepted anything that would get her far, far away from her old life of loneliness and pitiful despair. Sure, Troy had helped a lot with making her much, much more happy over the years, but overall her early teen years had been pretty awful. Her mother was gone for over a quarter of them, and kids -at least before she became Troy's official girlfriend- had teased her relentlessly over the most immature things. And having one person, even that being Troy Bolton, didn't make up for that. It made the countless nights of tears and hurt easier to get through, but it did not make Gabriella's life perfect.

She was still in search of any perfection that could be found in herself.

"I'm proud of you sweetie," Maria said, her chocolate orbs that were identical to her two daughters full with unshed tears.

"Thanks mom," Gabriella smiled gratefully at her mothers warm praise, though what she really wanted to do was run as fast as she could to go find Troy. She found it quite awkward and uncomfortable to suddenly be receiving emotional attention from her mother, when usually the only emotion that she showed in front of her was boiling anger that came out through screams of frustration and irritation.

This was new to her. Foreign.

She didn't know how she felt about it yet.

A hot tear escaped her mothers eyelid and skidded down her dark cheek, making the awkward tension in the room rise another level. Gabriella darted her eyes away, pretending the tear had gone unnoticed by her. "If your father could have lived to see this..."

"Mom, don't." Gabriella's midnight orbs turned deadly and darted up instantly, her stare dark as she venomously devoured her mothers eyes defiantly.

"Gabriella..." Maria's voice was warning and amends-making, her irises searching as Gabriella moved her stare to the side, not daring to meet her mothers glance.

"I gotta go find Troy."

If Maria had tried to call her name after that, Gabriella was deaf to it as she moved in a snake like manner in and out of each overly happy family. Before, it had been heartwarming. Now, it just made her nauseously sick. She drowned out everyone and everything, her firm steps leading as far away from the overwhelming crowd as possible.

Once outside the auditorium, Gabriella gasped for air. She looked down the East High hallways, her former home, the red lockers and the white walls all of a sudden making her feel bouts of dizziness. How had this day turned so horrible so fast?

She wasn't excited anymore. No, she didn't feel much of anything anymore.

She just wanted to find Troy.

She wandered around the deserted halls of East High for awhile, her past ringing through the dusty lockers like church bell chimes. She was going to miss it, she had to admit.

Finally, she reached her destination of the garden rooftop. It was her and Troy's special secret area, just one of the many they occupied. Her eyes scanned hastily over the garden of passion, her orbs carefully considering each place where her lover may be trying to rest in peace. She eventually did spot him though, sitting deathly still on a brown bench, simply staring out over the balcony at the vast desert of Albuquerque blankly.

It made Gabriella's heart sink with concern.

She strode up to him, he mocha eyes kind. She knew what had happened, she always knew; it was like a telepathic brainwave or something.

"Hey... mind if I sit?"

Troy lifted his left shoulder, detached from the world. His cerulean eyes just continued to stare into the indefinite blue skies, as if looking for a hidden message. Gabriella sat down next to him gently, not saying anything for a long while. She knew Troy Bolton. She knew he just needed a moment and he would come around.

But she also knew how to make it happen faster.

"I love you,"

She didn't say it anticipating Troy to say it back; she knew he wouldn't. Still, at hard times like these, so full of misery, pain and change, it was good for him to know he was still cared for.

Troy glanced sideways at her, and then looked down. "Your speech was wonderful," he complimented quietly, weakly.

"Thank you," she said somewhat sincerely, her mocha eyes studying him. He was talking yes, that was a good sign. But the words coming out of his mouth were false; not lying, but not genuinely meant, not truly concentrated on before given. "Wanna get outta here? We can go to our tree..." What she implied was running away from everyone and everything, abandoning thinking and contemplating for the time being; just concentrating on each other.

And at that moment nothing seemed more perfect.

He gave her a weak smile and reached for her hand. He noticed it felt perfectly into his, just like it always had. Her hand felt soft and oily, like she had recently used lotion or something on it. It was an instant comfort.

And with that, they rushed down to Troy's beat up old white truck, their only means of transportation, and fled the scene of adulthood as fast as they could.

* * *

It was really nothing special, just a medium tall, gigantically spacious, broken down Oak tree with a built in tree house courtesy of the founders of the park. It still hung strong even after being built over fifty years ago. The walls held time and memories of people all over Albuquerque who had made an effort to climb the limbs of mother nature's creation, refusing to let its past fly away by withering away into the cool night sky.

No, it refused to be torn down. It refused to be gone forever.

And for that Troy and Gabriella were eternally grateful.

This park, East Eden's Albuquerque Park, was greatly known for it's inspired trails into the depths of the forest and it's lushes green trees -not the dented Oaks tree that stood tall and proud behind a layer of thick bushes. Although this made the impassioned couple even more fervent due to the extra privacy they were given, an extra safe haven.

But this was by far their most treasured of the batch, the reason? Well, that's a story for another time.

Troy and Gabriella giggled and leaped over each patch of grass in their pathway, gracefully meandering through the woods of the public park. The sky was shifting to evening time now, the air crisp and cool. They found the brick pathway, one of the many in the park, that led right by their tree. Handfuls of people passed by it everyday and didn't even notice it's true beauty; just dismissed it as an old rickety thing with an old tree house built into it.

It was their loss. They'd never get to see its magic.

"After you," Troy held out his warm hand for her to take, and she obliged quite gratefully while skillfully climbing up the feeble ladder until her hands reached the wood of the tree house. Troy followed suit, and they both settled quite comfortably wrapped in one another's arms, simply gazing out at the brightly lit night sky.

They didn't have to think right then. Didn't want to think right then. At that moment, Gabriella was with Troy, Troy was Gabriella and the world faded away.

"I think... I think it's gonna be harder than I anticipated Gabriella," Troy breathed against her hair, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness.

"What is?"

"Convincing my dad... I mean, I always knew it wasn't going to be the easiest thing in the world, but...." Troy trailed his tan fingers tantalizingly up and now Gabriella's arm, reducing her to a hair-standing shiver. "Looking at him in the audience today... I just know he's gonna give me hell and... I don't know if I can face him Gabriella. I don't know if I'm strong enough." His vulnerable voice trailed off, not meeting her coffee colored eyes as they met his.

"Troy." She brought his chin up, confidence appearing in her eyes and voice, for him mainly. "Troy... don't even think like that. You are so strong..." She was seated on his muscular lap, her thin, olive arms running lovingly through his bronze hair, as if to take away his fears and insecurities. "You don't even realize do you?"

Troy looked down again, embarrassed, which was strange and completely out of character for the basketball star. Gabriella spoke with conviction, her assured voice giving Troy a little more confidence. "Troy you're... the strongest person I know. You've been through so much. Your dad, you have to deal with all that army crap and school and just regular life yet... you still seem so perfect. It's like your the poster boy for dysfunction but you don't let it get to you." She rubbed her smooth thumb heatedly over his ruby cheek.

"I don't know how you do it Troy," she whispered purposefully, yet somehow extremely alluringly in Troy's opinion. Her raven locks suddenly looked like they would just love to be cascading down her unclothed body and her cocoa orbs seeming like they yearned for the innocence to be captured ravenously from them.

Troy's breath quickly hastened, much to Gabriella's confusion.

"You know..." he mumbled passionately, his cyan orbs on fire, "we were supposed to consummate graduation tonight... Gotta tell ya I feel a little cheated..." She knew he was joking, but his hormones, oh man, those were real. He pressed his hot, fiery lips to her temple and began to swiftly kiss down her goddess like face.

"I don't believe I promised anything..." Gabriella whispered teasingly. He didn't stop kissing her.

"Oh, I believe you did Miss Montez," Troy countered.

"Are you calling me a tease, Mr. Bolton?" Her coffee colored eyes held much amusement.

"What? Of course not," The flabergasted tone and mock ofense did not stop Troy's passionate and loving kisses that he placed meaningfully on her rosy lips. Finally, their lips met, both willing, both ready for the serious act.

"I love you..." Troy mumbled in between sweet kisses. "I love you so much Gab..."

"Mm," Gabriella acknowledged, "Me too..." His soft kisses grew more persistant, and Gabriella obliged. Her lips expanded into a caring grin, as she continued to whisper sincere words to him. "I love you too."

They continued on like this for hours upon hours, kissing and showing their deep devotion for one another. They were on the same page for once, physically, if not in the same page in their lives emotionally. Maybe they were heading off into the wild blue yonder, completely unbeknownst to what might befall them in the time to come. Maybe they had utterly different ideas of what the future held for them, compared to what the actual outcome would be. Maybe they knew it would be their last fully happy, untroubled memory that they would harbor for a long, long time. Maybe, just maybe, on some subconscious level, they knew. Maybe they chose to ignore it for the time being, and just let love take over for those few hours of the night.

Ultimately, it was what their relationship was based on. And that's all they knew how to do anyway.

So they continued on, each touch filled with passion and love, each kiss sweet and tender. They trusted each other more than anything at that moment. Gabriella trusted Troy as he lay next to her and made her feel every single emotion and feeling in the book, would never abandon her or make her feel alone. Troy trusted Gabriella, to hold on to him for dear life, and never let him go.

It was beautiful.

And even after all was said and done; after hearts were broken and tears were heaved and lives were shattered, it still mattered and was beautiful. Gabriella and Troy never forgot how the other made them feel -not only this night but every night- and held on to that feeling even when it felt like it was drifting farther and farther away.

It was personally and specifically beautiful, and would remain beautiful to them forever.

Even if, that feeling of peace and security that they felt in one another like they had that night, never came again.


	3. Nothing Can Change Us

**As always, thank you so much for reading. I am tremendously nervous about this story, and it'd be great if I could get some feedback, either critical to help me know what I'm missing, or praiseful. That'd just be terrific. **

**Sorry for the lack of update, it's just a longer, more complex story, therefore it takes me longer to decipher how I want each detail to play out, but hopefully it'll all come together soon. Thanks for bearing with me. **

**Enjoy, and please do review. **

* * *

_"Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide, but I love you, until the end of time."_

_-_ Moulan Rouge

* * *

Later that evening, in the late hours of the night, Troy trotted home in the darkness. After their _'physical activities' _they had drifted into a soft slumber, just laying peacefully in each others arms. Soon though, Troy had unwillingly forced himself awake, and after much heavy shaking, gotten Gabriella to open her midnight orbs too. They decided that it was time for them to face the inevitable night, brace the cold of life together, as they sprang out of their tree house into the crisp evening air. Troy had, being the gentleman that he was, walked Gabriella home, though going against her persistent protests and her pleading that she _is_, in fact, an independent, adult young lady.

Following a long and lingering good night kiss, along with a tight squeeze where Troy's hands probably went lower than initially intended, Troy made his way down her driveway and back to the dimly lit street from which he had been on only one day ago.

However, it seemed like a lifetime.

Troy knew that now, no matter how much he hated it, things were going to change. Actually, things HAD changed... he was now a legitimate adult, one who no longer attended high school. He could, by law, to whatever he pleased now. He could get a job, go to college, lounge around with his friends and completely piss his life away; all sounded pretty blissful compared to the alternative.

But he also knew, by the unwritten law of his family's tradition, he was expected to carry out the alternative; the most demanding job possible.

Damn it, Troy cursed in his head. Life really sucked ass.

But you know what sucked even more? He had to go home then and face the harsh wrath of his devilish father.

Now _that_ really sucked ass.

Troy abandoned the cool, wispy night air, which all of a sudden felt deathly-chilly and sent shivers up his spine. Well, maybe it wasn't the coldness exactly.

Troy had always had an underlying fear of his father. And it wasn't just one of those childhood fears, like he was afraid of him catching Troy sneaking cookies from the cookies jar or scared of being slapped for talking back. No, it was more than that. It was an actual _fear_; a real anxiety over displeasing or being apprehended by his belligerent father.

And since "fear" wasn't a word in the Bolton's' vocabulary, this made everything immensely more difficult.

He cracked the door open slowly, praying to a higher power that he wouldn't have to face the unbearable displeasure of his father. His mother he could deal with, but please Lord, not his father. Not at this hour, at least. Not when he was tired and cold and lonely, facing anxiety over what the future would hold for him.

Troy entered the house, shutting the door softly, the house eerily quiet. However, the door cracked in the silence and Troy cursed himself and modern home furnishings for ruining his life. He wordlessly begged that no one had heard him, that his family was all fast asleep at this late hour of the night and had just assumed that he was at some rowdy graduation party with his friends and not with his girlfriend making sweet, sweet love to her. Please, oh please.

But luck, as always, wasn't on Troy Bolton's side.

"Troy." Troy's cyan orbs widened in horror as he heard his father's strict voice of composed anger -which sometimes was the worst kind- echo through out the ghostly silent household. Troy took a deep, calming breath doing his utmost to relax himself. You can do this Troy, he prepped. He's just your gonna ask you where you were; you lie. Pretty simple.

"I was, um, just at a party." His dad didn't offer anything back, yet Troy could still see his father's midnight, glowering eyes that were seated menacingly on the couch. Troy wondered what else he might be expecting him to utter, so desperately and quite awkwardly, he added, "Dad..."

His father leaned back on their brown, expensively extravagant sofa -matching the rest of the decor in their living room- considering Troy's excuse. It was a good one, he had to give him that. Very believable. But regardless of if it was truthful or not, Jack still felt the need for punishment this extremely late evening. And Troy still felt the need run down the hall to his room as quick as his athletic figure would allow him, slam the door with overwhelming force and lay down and sleep somewhat peacefully, avoiding this whole confrontation with his father.

Troy imagined he did just that. But then, when Jack cleared his throat in a critical manner, Troy was brought unwillingly and harshly back to reality. Back to his matirielistic living room filled with meaningless costly items that brought no real pleasure -it was all just hollow price tags. Back to the unforgiving venom of his father's words. Back to a world where the happy ending not only never happened, it was never even an option.

"A party, huh?" He said in an unbelieving, condescending voice. His regular voice. He got up from the his comfortable seat on the couch, and walked closer to the doorway, which Troy still hovered in front of. Troy felt a mixture of instincts; should he fling open the door and bolt out, or stand there and take it like a man? Neither sounded particularly appealing.

"And who's party might that be?"

A slight, phony cough coming to collect in his throat, Troy falsely replied, "Um... my friend Anthony's. There- we, um, we just danced and stuff. Nothing special."

Troy knew his father was not an idiot. He, unlike his mom, most likely knew that Troy's relationship with Gabriella was no longer as innocent as it previously had been. It was just standard father-to-son knowledge. Even though it had never verbally been confirmed, Troy could tell by the way his father now looked at him. In a new light, as if his son had entered into the realms of sex and ladies. And though this might come as a enormous relief to some sons, -their father would stop treating them like little preteen musketeers trapped in fully developed bodies, and best of all stop calling them 'sport'? All right!- however for Troy, it gave him an uneasy, strange feeling. Like the older his father saw him, the more he would expect of him. And didn't he already ask a lot of him?

"Oh really... that's all?" There was the hint of amusement, almost, in his disdainful voice. His arms were crossed over his buff chest, topaz eyes that were the farthest from Troy's cerulean as possible looking over him with a certain mixture of power and pleasure.

Troy shook his brunette shag in agreement, not daring to meet his eyes and suddenly found the lace that clung to the edges of the family's green and gray welcoming rug highly captivating. "Yeah. That's all."

His father nodded his head back in a hesitation, not believing a word uttered from his mouth. Troy knew it. But Troy always knew that his father would not want to get into an aggressive argument this late into the night. He would just dismiss Troy in this case, allowing him to get away with this one. He would have to be more careful in the future though, for it time might not work in his favor next time.

That was one thing that he appreciated about his dad -sure, he loved to harshly discipline Troy, but he didn't care enough about him to let that firm adoration interfere with his life. Troy wasn't important enough. Troy wasn't a priority. Troy always knew that he wasn't the 'chosen' one, wasn't favored by his hard-to-please father. And usually, that severely bothered him and made him feel worthless. At times like these though, when he really WANTED to be forgotten, it was actually beneficial to him.

How ironic.

"Go to your room, Troy." he ordered, not even taking a second glance at his azure eyed son. Troy exhaled, relief washing clean his veins.

He was spared - tonight.

* * *

"...And if any of you ever repeat that, God help me, I will hunt you all down and kill you."

The air was clamorous with the noise of blaring, chatting mouths and old fifties music echoed through the orange jukebox that was leaning comfortably against a off-white wall next to tables with either mounts of dirty plates or somewhat clean tables ready for use. Overall, the scene was straight out of an old sixties movie -waitresses with gaudy red lip stick and pink uniforms and all- besides the fact that it is a little ways into the 21st century, and instead of the boys wearing black leather greaser jackets and the ladies wearing poodle skirts, the kids of today opted for the practicality of jeans, T-shirts and Converses.

The place had originated in 1952, back when it was given the bare name of, "Albuquerque Malt Shop". Now, however, it was more modern and updated though there were a few kickbacks to original owner's decor. For example, the jukebox -albeit had endured many repairs- was still the same one used by the very first customer to ever set foot in the shop. The counters still were painted the exact same design of a baby, turquoise blue. Not to mention the furnishings still clung to the super-innocent image of Pink Ladies and Greasers.

And on certain days, such as this one where college was looming around the corner, inching closer with every day, it was a heavenly place to escape to.

And this group of Wildcats adored it.

Chad Danforth's deathly glare made everyone believe the last threatening sentence he uttered, and they decided to progress the conversation to another topic. Before that, they had been talking about prom... one thing led to another and had Chad ended up telling them about the time when he was four years old and wanted to be Little Miss Albuquerque, but, to quote him, "only to get tickets to see Salt and Peppa in concert, which were only on sale for a limited time!". Like that made it any better. They'd all had a good, hearty laugh over that one, before Chad grew red-faced and regretted announcing his past revelation to the Wildcats.

Currently, the previous Wildcats were enjoying a cozy lunch together, all squeezed in a comfy booth, talking loudly and munching on food.

Sharpay Evans, typical ice queen of East High but for some reason like a moth to a flame to this particular group, leaned forward to grasp a handful of fries -the rare occasion that she ever had them- and hitched her lips above her pearly teeth, her high pitched voice echoing throughout the table, "Where the hell are those god damn lovebirds?" Sharpay wasn't one to be a romantic, that's definite.

"Shar... Didn't we talk about you working on your snappy diva behavior?" Taylor questioned disapprovingly, her chocolate eyes narrowing at the preppy blonde.

"Erm... right." She sat up a little straighter, poofing her overly large platinum, overdone curls. "May I ask, where are Troy and Gabriella?" She faced Taylor, manicured nails reflexively going to her hair once again. "Better?"

"Better." Taylor assured.

"Hoops texted me ten minutes ago," Chad informed the gang of eight seated at the red colored booth, "said they were on their way. You know them. Probably stopped every ten minutes to declare their undying love for each other," he mocked.

Taylor grabbed a greasy fry, nibbling on it as she spoke, "You know typically I would reprimand you for making fun of them, but I'm actually pretty proud you're expanding your vocabulary. Nice job, Chady."

As she finished, Chad turned an unfriendly shade of red, though it was almost unnoticeable, darkened by his Hershey-colored skin. He cleared his throat nervously and sat up straighter, as if increasing his manhood by adjusting his posture.

"'Chady'?!" The boys snickered and the girls -minus Taylor of course- tried unsuccessfully to hid their smirks behind their napkins. "What the hell dude?" Jason chuckled lightly. "Why doesn't she just cut off your balls and serve them on a gourmet platter?"

"Shut up." Chad grumbled, irritated. He adverted his darkened eyes from the humorous ones of his friends, finding the chipping, dark red paint of the table appealing.

As if on queue, -and saving Chad from more unwanted teasing- the joyous lovebirds entered the scene of the restaurant, gripping one another's hands tightly, smiles gracing their faces.

"Hoops!" Zeke rose from his end spot on the booth to give Troy a manly pat on the back, and to allow both into the booth. All the gang exchanged 'hello's' and pleasantries, eventually settling down and allowing the tardy Troy and Gabriella to order proper food.

Once all that was taken care of, the gang settled into real conversation, not just polite talk and pleasantries. First and foremost in everyone's mind was, without a doubt, college. It inched closer and closer with each second that ticked by gracefully on the clock, and each sunrise that began a new day and ceased the old one.

And it was all these eighteen year olds could talk about.

"I think it'll be good for me," Sharpay's acute voice piped in, referring to college in the fall. Sharpay was all set to attend the University of Albuquerque next year. It wasn't her primarily choice -and _definitely_ not her ideal one- but after a lot of persuading and just plain _not_ being accepted to the school of her dreams, she had been convinced to go, and was now trying to look on the positive side of the situation -a new life outlook for her.

"I mean, not that I wasn't completely _robbed_ of my right to express my artistic abilities at Julliard, which has been my lifelong dream since I was like three years old and-"

"Sharpay..." The theatrics from the blond were cut off by her sort-of boyfriend, Zeke Baylor. He was usually the apprehensive type of boyfriend, which is why it came as such a surprise to hear his deep, firm voice sound resolutely right next to her. But it was a welcomed change.

Sharpay huffed displeasured, crossing her tan, skinny arms across her chest. "Well I _was_ robbed..."

"Anyway," Taylor continued, trying to avoid any further dramatics, "I'm pretty much prepared for fall. I still have a few last minute things to get, -just accessories for my room and such- but the rest is all taken care of."

"What about you Gab? You all prepared for fall?"

Suddenly, the air was deathly silent.

No one uttered a word, and the climate in the room spiked about twenty degrees.

It was an untouchable topic; off-limits for the time being. You see, Gabriella still was undecided about where she would be attending college. Sure, Stanford -to which she had been gladly accepted- had been her and her mother's dream since before she could remember, and being accepted was a dream come true. Also, her father had attended that school, making her an alumni's daughter, and a very respected one at that. Still, there was something holding her back, making it impossible for her to enroll enthusiastically.

Firstly, there was Troy. Gabriella found herself incapable of leaving Troy. Despite how much Troy pleaded with her to follow in her father's footsteps and do what was best for her, she was adamant about not leaving him. With his relationship with his dad even rockier than usual lately, she didn't want to risk leaving and then having something absolutely horrible happen to him, with her over one thousand miles away. She wanted to be there for Troy. And staying in Albuquerque and attending U of A would give her the freedom to do that.

So why was it so hard for her to enroll there? Why did her head always ignore her heart and stop her from completing that?

Well, she knew for certain that Troy wouldn't be going to college at this point in time, due to his father and his immature army goals for him. Well, what he _thought _would be his army goals. That would be until Troy told him off like he said he would.... Gabriella prayed that time would come soon enough. Until then, though, he was not planning on attending any school. Although he had been accepted to Berkley and U of A, two very prestigious schools that he adored. But life played games in unfair and peculiar ways, and currently Troy was the one losing that game.

So, for that reason, Gabriella couldn't bring herself to want to hop on that plane and fly to California at the end of the summer.

Lastly, another main concern of hers was Ellie. Elizabeth, or "Ellie", Gabriella's younger sixteen year old sister would be all alone if Gabriella left. Technically, her mother was still present, and by law, she lived with and was supported by her mother. But mentally and emotionally, that was the farthest from the truth. After Gabriella's father had passed away, Maria had retreated emotionally, hurting beyond belief and in need of her other half, whom she would sadly never see again. She had just checked out, exactly when Gabriella and Ellie had needed her most. Maria began taking longer business trips, and putting in more hours. For the first year or so the girls had just assumed it was her way of healing, and let her be. But after that, her activity just became very... questionable. Each of the two had their personal theories about why their mother was the way she was, but they had both made an unspoken pact to just leave it.

It was the way their life was now; broken, shattered; motherless.

They were orphans from then on out. Gabriella became more than an older sister, she became a confident, a mentor, a caretaker. Gabriella was the one Ellie solely relied on for everything from taking her to the mall to taking her shopping; it all fell on her fragile shoulders.

Which is why Gabriella positively _could not_ abandon Ellie. She could not allow her to be wholly alone in this despicable world.

Therefore, it was impossible for this cocoa eyed teenager to bid farewell to the home she'd known for so long, the friends she shared countless memories with, the life she'd grown accustomed to, that no matter how dysfunctional, she wouldn't give up in a heartbeat.

So, the big, bright transition of Stanford? Not necessarily on the top of her priorities list.

The question Taylor had uttered what seemed like light-years ago was left unanswered, but the Wildcats didn't expect an answer. Neither did Taylor, for as soon as the inconsiderate words had left the realms of her mouth, she felt unbelievably dumb and careless. She apologized innumerable times, but Gabriella -and the stone-faced Troy, who sat with his ceruleans cast down and motionless once the thought was a bubble in the wind of the restaurant- just shrugged it off, looking impatiently for some form of a waiter to deliver her food and have the attentive eyes of the Wildcats positioned on somebody else.

She waited and waited, and though the food did soon come and the group's concentration was focused on other matters, the uneasy feeling of being detected never left Gabriella's abdomen, and the intolerable thought of leaving never escaped her brain.

And her clammy, shaky hand never moved from the tight clasp of Troy's equally sweaty hand all afternoon.

* * *

Gabriella, as strange as it would sound, liked thunder.

Maybe not loved -that may be too strong of word- but she could say with absolute positively that she was in full-like with thunder.

It was rare for a girl such as Gabriella -glasslike in beauty and delicacy- to announce her admiration for the crashing and booming of the storm, but it was true. Why she felt this way, she could not exactly put her finger on. Maybe she was just that type of person. Or maybe -and this was just a suspicious theory she had- it was because the majority of girls her age were terrified of loud noises like that, and setting herself apart made her feel unique and original, like most things in her life made her feel. Perhaps, it was due to the independent lifestyle she led, and saying she wasn't afraid of thunder and lightening just added to her brave, self-reliant way of life. Or possibly she was so petrified that she actually convinced herself that she wasn't afraid.

Gabriella didn't know. But she did know that as she lay in the dimly lit, abandoned living room of Troy's house, her slim body covered by a comforting wool blanket and by Troy's protective, muscular arms, her head laying atop his solid chest, at ease, lightening flashes causing bright streaks to strike the covered window and blustering sounds of the thunder yelling at the clouds amplified throughout the house, she was not afraid of anyone or anything.

Including thunder.

"So, I'd say considering the fact that we had to sit through one of Shar's weekly Julliard rants and one of Taylor's daily lectures of preparation for college, today was a pretty damn good day." Troy commented, sky eyes twinkling.

"I'd have to agree," Gabriella stretched her arms out, over Troy's strong chest, beaming at the prospect of finally having some decent time alone where they were not burdened by the presence of their friends or of family members located somewhere in the shadowy domains of the house that they needed to be concerned about. No, for the next few hours or so, time would exist for them solely. "But I'd have to say this... is my favorite part."

"What? Being alone in my parents creepy, colossal house which serves no purpose?"

Gabriella rolled her coffee colored eyes back in her head, alive with humor. "No! Being alone with _you. _Spending time with you. Being in your arms," a lazily relaxed smile gracing her pink lips, she snuggled closer, and he welcomed the warmth gladly, "you know... the peacefulness..."

Gabriella signed in contentment, and Troy couldn't help but doing the same. It was precious, unbelievably happy moments like these that Troy couldn't help but smile and squeeze her tighter against his chest and be thankful for all that he had. Sure, his relationship with his dad was massively messed up when it came to certain subjects, living in his brother's shadow was never an easy task, and the prospect of his immediate future was blurry and undetermined, but in those minutes all those things moved farther and farther from Troy's mind and he felt a jolt of ease wash over him. Being with Gabriella always made him feel that way; blithe, satisfied, unordinary content. Like everyday life had faded into the black and white world of distance and unimportance. Like anything was possible.

She made his life not perfect, but bearable.

"Mmm..." he murmured lovingly to his love against her midnight locks that were curled up against his chin and neck. "Have I told you how much I love you lately?" he questioned, placing cheeky kisses from the top of her head to her smooth forehead.

"Only in the last forty-five minutes or so... but it doesn't hurt to hear it some more."

He rubbed his nose softly against her hair, inhaling her vast scent. "I love you. I love you. I love you...." he kissed her gingerly on the lips as her body bent in a curved motion to meet his fierce lips of fire, "Mmm... love... you...."

A few more passion-filled lip locks were exchanged, before Gabriella pulled back carefully. "The feelings mutual, babe."

But Troy wasn't done; the moment hadn't released him yet. He was still in a cathartic faze of undying love and lust for wholeness, a wholeness that only Gabriella could provide. "You mean the world to me... never forget that. Even if things change, never forget it..."

"If things change?" Gabriella's chocolate orbs looked at him hesitantly. "If what changes?"

"I don't know, Gabriella... I just don't know. Anything could change at any time, and I just want you to know that that's never gonna change how I feel about you."

"But we'll always be together... right?" Fear was apparent in her large, brown eyes and Troy felt immense heartache at the sight.

Truth was, Troy just didn't know for absolute certain. He didn't know what the future held for them. He knew with complete certainty that Gabriella was his soul mate, and that he'd never feel the same way about anyone else the way he felt about this truly beautiful girl. Still though, there were always this overruling feeling of doubt, most likely originating from the pessimistic upbringing by his father. There was without question no way in hell that Troy would be joining the army in the foreseeable future. Troy had already decided that. And in moments like these, while he was within Gabriella's intoxicating presence, his decision felt stronger than ever. But when he was home... that was a different story. He just couldn't explain it. He still felt strongly about his choice, but his conclusion was always countered and questioned while in the presence of his family members.... mainly his father and so-called war prodigy older brother, Henry.

And Troy didn't know what had compelled him to do it, but murmuring those few promising words to Gabriella without thinking had made her instantly panic, and Troy could have punched the freaking hell out of himself for causing her to worry.

There didn't need to be two of them.

"I... well, yeah. I hope so. But I can't tell you that for sure Gab, no one can. No one knows what's gonna happen in the future. My dad... he... It's an unstable relationship. I can't honestly say I know how things are gonna turn out." Gabriella winced inaudibly at the brutal honesty in his words. "But what I can tell you is, that I'm always gonna love you. No matter what."

"You would never listen to him all of a sudden and... leave me, right?" Gabriella tried to be coy, but her uncertainness was showing through her chocolate orbs.

"What? No... you're... you're everything to me Brie. I love you so much and I need you. Do you seriously think I would be capable of moving across half of the world just for a stupid tradition? Just to please my father? Not a chance." Troy assured her, his muscled arm gripping her petite waist tighter to him as they lay comfortably on his beige and off-white colored couch.

"I love you too," she spoke honestly against his chest.

"Good. And nothing can ever change that. No one can ever change that. There's nothing in this world that can keep us apart Gabs, not even him." Troy spoke not only to soothe and convince Gabriella, but also himself. To be honest, he was dead scared. Him and his father's fights were getting more and more intense each night, to say the least. Sure, he had been spared the night before -for once. But the brutality of the truth was getting harder and harder to face as each day passed. It was scary. Terrifying, even. But most of all it was just made his whole situation that much more torturous, because he knew that the damage his father had been doing recently was not the worst his father could do. He could be a lot more bitter, coldhearted and... well, heartbreaking. Troy knew he could. And while that was distressing and all, the nerves Troy felt just waiting for his father to crack and fall of the edge of anger was even more afflicting that it overshadowed the pain of his father's insensitiveness.

However as he felt Gabriella breathe in and out softly against his solid chest, he found peacefulness in the vow that nothing would ever change his relationship with Gabriella. Nothing could hurt or damage it. Ever.

Oh, how wrong he was.


	4. When We Were Young

**Sorry it took so long to post. It was just an... EXTREMELY long chapter and I really wanted to get this right, since it's pivotal to the story and how it later unfolds. Believe it or not, this chapter was originally supposed to be longer, but I had to shorten it, because of, well, I like to keep my readers occupied not slowly kill them with never-ending chapters.**

* * *

_"Wouldn't it be lovely if we were old? We'd have survived all this.  
Everything would be easy and uncomplicated; the way it was when we were young."_

_"Katie, it was never uncomplicated."_

_- _The Way We Were

* * *

_June 21st, 2005 _

_Gabriella Montez sat in the cushioned and comfortable lawn chair that sat alone on her balcony, her tan legs crossed, hands in her lap. The air was crisp and breezy, a perfectly ideal mid-summer night. The sun was setting gracefully and the day beginning to transform to night, yet there was still enough light out for people to be taking nice, long strolls in the park. How did Gabriella know this? _

_Easy; her bedroom balcony overlooked East Eden's Albuquerque Park. It was a wonderful view, especially at night when the stars illuminated the shadows of those night strollers to an impeccably vivid landscape. _

_It was a serene scenario, but at that moment, fifteen year old Gabriella Montez felt anything but. _

_The young teenager swayed her foot impatiently in the evening wind, it attempting to fill her with tranquility when really all it was accomplishing was blowing her midnight curls in her face, resulting in further irritation. _

_"God!" Gabriella hissed madly. She was really, truly and by all means pissed by this time. And it wasn't just irrational hormones taking control, either. No, this reason ran deeper than most, and while the problem itself wasn't that dire, she still had no problem amplifying it to a multitude beyond belief, redirected anger spilling out of her orbs like a raging river._

_Her mother wasn't home from work yet. Yes, to most girls her age this might seem like a gift; something good. But to Gabriella, whose mother was rarely home as it was, -and whose father was long deceased- being two hours later than she originally promised was a huge deal. Monumental in her mind. _

_And tonight, of all nights, the pain ran thicker and heavier than most. _

_Tonight, though her mother might not quite remember, was the anniversary of the day the Montez family was rocked to the very core. The day everything changed for the worst. _

_The day Martin Montez was diagnosed with stomach cancer. _

_It was five years ago that very day, on June 21st 2000 to be exact, that normalcy came to a screeching halt. Their beloved dad had gone to the emergency room before, first complaining of constant nausea and stomach pains, that the somewhat experienced doctors wrote off as some sort of ulcer and dismissed. However, the pain didn't stop, the constant nagging of a lurking evil didn't disappear, and though he still complained of consistent discomfort, the family tried to ignore it and continue on with their regular lives, praying it would straighten itself out over time. _

_It didn't, though. And when the unmistakable color of death with the scent of copper filled his body, divulging itself through ill-fated body waste, the disparity in his situation was undeniable, and he was immediately rushed to the hospital. After multiple tests that carried on through-out the following week, it was certain what he had was not normal. Not good, either. Gabriella could tell by the deathly quiet household she was so deeply unaccustomed to. She could see it in her mother's face; her blotchy face due to crying, her puffy eyes and nearly black circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. She could tell by the way that her sister's eyes would just zoom out into space during a conversation, and then when they returned to normal, the tears inside them were as patent as day. _

_She could tell by, despite how hard she fought it, she could not stop the incessant stomach aches caused by stressed, or the inability to stop herself from constantly seeking out 'what if' scenario's in her head, picturing the worst and then hating herself for doing so. _

_It was not that hard for ten year old Gabriella Montez to see that things were unavoidably changing for the most awful. _

_And they did, just as she had grievously anticipated. And on June 21st, 2000, unfortunate circumstances shattered their glasslike dance of attempted normalcy. _

_She didn't remember much about that day except for tears escaping everyone's eyes, and whimpering coming from the mouths of her loved ones. Her memory clogged up after that, and the next few months were a blur. She could officially and without disagreement say that that was the worst summer of her life. _

_Then, after months of twirling around the topic like it was a forbidden piece of fruit, the unimaginable happened._

_On September 18th, Martin Montez breathed his last breathe at the Montez household. _

_Gabriella would never, ever, no matter how much she strongly disliked a person, wish that overwhelming feeling of loss on anyone._

_And all she wished for, for tonight, was for her mom and herself to spend at least one night on uninterrupted tranquility and memories together. But that didn't happen. _

_Maybe her mother didn't remember, or had perhaps tried to push it out of her mind. Gabriella would understand that; her mother never wanted to face the inevitable truth, never had. And maybe Gabriella shouldn't have held her accountable for that night. They had both grieved in their own difficult way, never truly having a much needed heart to heart about the taboo subject of their family member's death. It had been painful, an arduous experience. Gabriella, for instance, had grieved by crying herself to sleep night after night, until she could simply not cry anymore. Until the tears ran out. And even then, she was pretty sure her pillow would never be completely dry again. _

_Her mother, on the other hand, had locked herself away from her daughters, burying herself in demanding tasks at work and not taking a moment to relax, breathe, and realize that her husband was, in fact, gone forever. She never wanted to. And Gabriella, in all fairness, couldn't blame her. She resented her at times, yeah, but she just couldn't find the strength in herself to be truly and eternally enraged at her mother and her hidden mask of emotion. _

_Maybe she craved her love too much. _

_So, maybe, just maybe, Gabriella was acting irrationally, a little foolishly. Perhaps she shouldn't have expected so much of her mother, knowing her usual ways. There was a slight chance, that possibly, it was just too much to ask and Gabriella should have never anticipated her showing interest in them spending some quality time together, feeding off each other's strength and progressing together through such a tremendous hardship. _

_Maybe. But Gabriella didn't give a damn about the 'maybes'. She was pissed as all hell. And her mother's stupid mental state, buried deep within herself was not going to change that. _

_It was the foundation underlying the promise that was bigger than anything, that was what was really getting under her skin. It wasn't the fact that her mother had been two hours late alone - it was that she was breaking a commitment, a pledge to her eldest daughter. She had promised, verbally promised, to be home by a specific hour. And the hand on the clock had bypassed that hour a long time ago. _

_Therefore, to Gabriella, by ripping that commitment in half, she had dishonored her daughter in the worst kind of way -she had made her feel inferior to everything else that went on in her mother's life; her job, her clients, her friends. _

_But worse than that, Gabriella felt like she was saying her father's death was less important than that. _

_And that hurt. _

_Furthermore, this was the reason that on that fateful night, Gabriella Montez sat on her breezy balcony, absorbing the cool night air, counting down the seconds angrily until she would hear the latch of the front door being opened and see her mother's face pop in. _

_And after about thirty minutes of sitting in the gray night sky, thinking irrationally about what she wanted to do to her mother, the front door made a creaking sound that was impossible to miss and Gabriella darted out of her room, a lethal force to be reckoned with._

_"Mom?" Her voice was hoarse. A snooty tone was buried beneath her question, but mostly she was just curious -what had kept her mother almost three hours late? Was she okay?_

_"Gabriella, hunny, oh, I've just had the worst day." Her mother announced dramatically as she flounced into the living room, leisurely unbuttoning her coat. Gabriella stood there in disbelief, but her mother went blind to her gaping stare. _

_"First, Nancy, my secretary - have I told you about Nancy before? Anyways, she lost all my files to go with the Delancy case. Said she misplaced them. Then," her mother sighed exasperatedly, obviously wrapped up in her own issues to notice the mixture of hurt and anger that was evident on Gabriella's pubescent features, "as if that wasn't dreadful enough, Jeff Petersons, - my boss - called to tell me that, not only is the Delancy case due next week, but I am expected to complete that wholeheartedly as well as present it in court to the jury." Maria Montez's coat had slowly been abandoned as the story came to a close, and draped on the frame of their beige couch. She rolled her eyes at her daughter, as if the ironic and unfortunate turn-out of the day was everyone else's fault, and since she be forced to work with these people, they should get their act together -pronto. _

_"Mom..." _

_"Oh, and on top of that, my car's tire apparently has a hole in it. I mean, this is just the worst day!" _

_"Mom!" _

_Her mother looked at her confusedly, like she had just realized Gabriella had been standing there, a fume of anger evident in her posture and a mixture of bewilderment and distress on her olive skinned face. "What is it, Gabriella?" _

_"Mom, I..." Her eyes darted desperately around the room, gesturing wildly with her hands to the dining room table that held a cold plate of nicely made lasagna. "I made dinner! I did everything! And you're late!" _

_Her mother seemed to find amusement, of all things on earth, in her daughters rant, which made Gabriella feel a strange combination of strong anger and something else she could not identify. "Well, I'm sorry hunny, but I had to work late. There was really nothing I could do." _

_"But mom, I...I did all this for you and... and do you even know what today is?" Maria's eyes snapped, confirming Gabriella's suspicions that she had, without doubt, remembered and had been trying to avoid the topic once again. Like she did every year._

_Her face was more serious this time, more stricken. "Gabriella, I'm sorry, but this is my job. I have to do it." _

_"No you don't have to do anything. You choose to." The coffee colored orbs of the teenager filled with tears as she went on. "It's not a god damned life or death situation, mom. You can choose not to go in for a day, I think the freaking lawyers at your office will understand." _

_"Gabriella-" _

_"No, stop it! Stop lying to me! I hate you!" Now Gabriella could hear the irrational, hormonal teenager in herself coming out, but she could really care less. She carried on. "You've done nothing to help me and Ellie since dad died and I'm sick of it! You hide yourself away from the world thinking it will help somebody or make it easier, but it doesn't!" _

_"Gabriella-" _

_"It doesn't make it easier, mom!" Tears were streaming down her face by then, leaving unflattering stains of red all down her cheeks. She endured a couple of sobs before continuing. "Do you really think dad would have wanted things to be this way?" _

_"Gabriella Anne Montez!" A choked sob escaped Gabriella mouth, and her mother stood stiffly before her. "Don't you DARE talk to me like that! I-" _

_"Talk to you how, mom, talk to you how?" She laughed bitterly at the predicament she was in. How extremely different it was from what her father would have wanted. "You know what, I'm sorry I had expectations. I'm sorry I thought things were actually gonna work out for a change." She swallowed roughly. "And I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." So many emotions were rushing through her veins at once, unexplainable and uncontrollable. She grabbed at her chest, finding it difficult for her lungs to move properly. She choked, almost gasped, for air. _

_"I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" _

_And with that, the lines that had been crossed so long ago were forgotten completely. Gabriella crossed the room, hysterical and mad as hell at everything, and felt the need to ruin that night once and for all. She came upon the dining room table, a mahogany color with silky smooth and rich texture. She sobbed again, remembering eating countless meals with her entire family, back when it was intact, and tears flew from her chocolate eyes once more. But she couldn't think. The foundation of this fight was based on not thinking. _

_And with all her might, all her teenage anger came flying through at that very moment. She, in one swift motion, lifted the lasagna pan with unexplainable fierceness, full of uneaten amends, and through it to the ground, it landing with a great thud and making colors fly every which way. Gabriella was shocked at her actions, and before she knew it, she was running out the front door, her feet making thud after thud on the cold ground. _

* * *

_"Maybe this whole thing is just a waste of time, expenses and tears." _

_"Maybe you should shut your mouth before your father hears you." _

_A young Troy Bolton rolled his eyes at his mother's playful yet true comment. His sapphire eyes scanned the premises and it sickened him all over again. _

_It was not a gloomy day entirely -in fact the evening air was cool enough to be enjoyable- but that's what the Bolton household had made it out to be. Tears were flying freely and hugs were being exchanged at no cost. A large, loud banner hung across the Bolton's living area that read "We'll Miss You". A small crowded lingered in the residence while sipping on punch cups and snacking on refreshments. The sight was pleasant enough, but for some reason it made Troy weak in the knees and sent fresh blood boiling hot in his veins. _

_It wasn't just the thought of his older and only brother going away to fight in a dangerous battle zone for god knows how long, either. _

_Something else faltered in the background of fifteen (almost sixteen as he'll remind you countless times) year old Troy's feelings that he couldn't quite identify, something that went well over his head. It was harder to decode than a calculus math problem. _

_"Okay everyone, Henry's about to take off!" Jack Bolton, head of the household, boomed from across the room to the guests that were still seated in the living room space. Troy lifted his blue orbs, them reflecting a certain type of pain. His mother removed herself politely from the conversation she was engaging in and took off outside, to see Henry eagerly talking to some of his old school buddies. She wiped at her tears and Troy followed her outside reluctantly, and he cringed inwardly at the riveting emotion of the scene. _

_Yeah, he was beyond upset that his brother was leaving, for war, no less. They had been very close since childhood, finding similarities in their deep adoration for different types of sports and games. They both had a fondness for basketball, yet Troy had been the only one to truly pursue it wholeheartedly. Henry had immersed himself in fighting, taking up wrestling, violent video games and hearing from his father and grandfather their "cherished" memories from war. It had made Troy recoil in disgust, hearing their vivid tales of bloody triumph or bitter loses. But for Henry on the other hand, it had given him a pinch of excitement, a longing to battle for dominance like the Bolton ancestry. _

_Troy wasn't even sure when the fighting tradition had began, and he didn't think it was really a traceable thing. So, he just accepted it as a part of his history, and he imagined Henry did as well. That was what he assumed. Surprisingly enough, the Bolton brothers never really discussed this topic; either it never came up it conversation and Troy was afraid to bring it up, or Henry never thought to bring it up himself. _

_Troy felt disgust in his solid chest at the sight of his brother leaving, but most of all he felt longing. Not just longing for his brother to stay with him, but longing to _be_ his brother. _

_Henry and Troy were the classic tale of two brothers. Henry was the eldest; the favored one. Troy was the youngest; the disregarded one. _

_It hadn't always been this way. Troy actually remembered a time when they were treated equal by their father. It was when he was in his toddler years, but still -they existed. When he was younger, Troy remembered his dad telling both his brother -who is three years older than him- stories from when he himself had fought in the war, pretty close to the age Henry was now. They had lacked graphic detail at that time, and his dad sugarcoated the difficulty of most assignments, but they had left an imprint in the boys, nonetheless. Troy remembered specifically not giving a damn at all, and he would usually just continuing playing while his dad told stories, pretending to listen. Henry, though, was completely attracted to the idea. And as he got older, the captivation only intensified. Now, he was a living, breathing, pre war solider, utterly obsessed with fighting, violence and the concept of battling and risking everything for democracy. _

_Or, in other words, a younger version of Jack Bolton. _

_Maybe that was where the boys differed endlessly; the biggest way they would never be the same. _

_"Give me a hug sweetie," Lucille Bolton ordered warmly, and her oldest bent down, almost reluctantly given that all his high school buddies were standing right there. He whipped up, before sending them -unbeknownst to his mom- an eye roll and a shrug. Mothers. _

_Jack gave him a quick hug and told him to be safe. After that, Troy was left as the only one to have not said goodbye. As a matter of fact, they hadn't really had any special "moment", as it were, where they said a tearful goodbye or said how much they meant to each other. No, Henry had never been the type and Troy would never in a million years initiate it. So, now, it was now or never. _

_Troy awkwardly approached his brother, hands dug deep in his pockets. Henry looked just as uncomfortable, as he scratched the side of his head and squinted his eyes, as if thinking hard. _

_"Well... little bro..." Henry began, and shoved his hands in his sweat pants pocket to imitate Troy. "I guess..."_

_"Yeah." Henry didn't need to finish his sentence. They both knew what he was going to say. This was it. This was, not only the end of Henry's childhood, but the end of them rooming together and children. Brothers. Henry was going on a dangerous mission, and though Troy had faith that his brother would make it out okay, you never knew for certain. You just never knew. _

_With all eyes watching them expectantly, almost as if they were the entertainment, Troy and Henry, alike in so many ways yet separated by the thickest boulder imaginable, inched forward and slowly wrapped their arms around one another. After a brief minute, they separated and looked down, away, up -anywhere but each other._

_Then it was over. Henry and Jack were in the car together, easing their way out of the crowded driveway, with goodbye's being flung at the automobile left and right. The car made its way down the black pavement alongside identical houses, and soon it disappeared out of sight completely, only leaving faded tire tracks on the dark cement to form in Troy's memory._

_"Well that was quite a party," Troy commented wryly, while his mother and him surveyed the living room and patio for empty cups and abandoned plates. The party had cleared out pretty quickly after Henry had taken off, not to anyone's surprise. It hadn't quite set in on Troy yet, the fact of his brother leaving. There was a hollow pang in his chest, but he ignored it. _

_"Hush, you. It was a beautiful party." Lucille retorted, still searching the premises for leftover garbage. _

_"Not saying it wasn't." He took an empty plastic punch cup in his hands, twirling it subconsciously. "Just saying it was depressing, is all." _

_"Well, you can't expect that type of a party to be a happy occasion, sweetie." She eyed the cup in his hands warningly, and then came up to him and plucked the cup out of his tan hands. She peered into his magnificent, startlingly baby blue eyes, the ones that always took her back about fifteen years, and cupped his soft cheeks. "You seemed awfully indifferent about the whole thing Troy... is everything okay?" _

_"Fine, mama." Troy wiggled out of her motherly grasp and pretended to look elsewhere - to search for cups or something. But he really wasn't. He began to think with all his might - had he really came off as indifferent?_

_She didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but continued on and the rest of the cleaning duties were done in silence. Once Jack arrived home, the silence became even more patent and blaringly obvious. It was just awkward, then. Because Troy and Jack both knew what was gonna come next; what Jack wanted to discuss now more than ever, the topic that was so deafeningly prominent in the room it was almost hard to breathe. It was like the clock was ticking faster, and Troy's heart speed up, waiting for him and his father's next outburst at one another._

_Jack looked between his two family members. "Is everything all cleaned up?" _

_Tick. _

_"Yes, it is." Lucille fluffed the pillows on the beige couch before turning to her husband. "Want something to drink, hunny?" _

_Tock._

_"No thank you," he replied, his eyes glancing over at Troy, and Troy tried to break the eye contact. _

_Tick._

_"Troy..."_

_"What dad?" _

_BOOM. _

_Like a flash of unpredicted lightening, so unexpected and so sudden, the words were out of Troy's mouth before he could control it. He didn't know what made him do it. Maybe it was the stress of the party, maybe it was the fact that he'd been keeping in his emotions for weeks now, maybe it was due to the fact that his only brother left..._

_Or maybe it was because he just needed to snap._

_"Troy!" His mother looked at him, flabbergasted. _

_"Troy, you _don't_ talk to me like that." His father's deep, stern voice rang out. He knew he shouldn't have uttered that. It was a complete mistake. But for some reason that he couldn't comprehend, he didn't regret it. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt release. He felt empty. He felt forgotten. He felt alone._

_But most of all, he felt the irrational need to raise a burning fire with his father. To get in trouble. To get attention._

_"We both know this is coming, so why not just say it?" The azure eyed boy demanded. The dark eyed older man with similar cheek bones and statute sighed. The boy shook his head and stepped forward. _

_"I don't know what you're talking about, son." Jack adverted his hard eyes. Troy scoffed. _

_"Don't play dumb dad," he spat. _

_"Troy, you don't-" his mother began, her authority coming off somewhat desperate for Troy's cooperation. She really didn't want things to escalate to horrible - that was one thing she didn't need that night. _

_"No, mom. He wants this. Dad wants this. He wants to-to scare the living hell outta me. He wants me to be frightened of him, he always has. He wants me to hate him."_

_"Now don't be silly-" _

_"No. Look at him. He does." The two pairs of eyes present in the living room turned to the older man. His face was contorted in a rocklike statute. Mild anger might have been there, maybe even betrayal, but Jack did not let it show. _

_His mother sighed. Was he right? "Regardless though, Troy you don't-"_

_"I know mom, I know. I just... hate living like this." Great Troy, show weakness, he thought to himself. Now not only will your father hate you, he'll think you're a loser. Perfect. _

_"Troy, it's gonna be okay. Is this because of Henry leaving?" His mother's maternal side kicked into high gear, and her mocha-hazel eyes filled with unconditional love. His father didn't move a muscle; he was a boulder of stillness against the riveting scene. _

_Troy wriggled out of his mother's grasp. "No, mom, no! It's not... it's not because of that." Troy felt his throat becoming dry, and prayed to a higher power that he'd be able to make it through this without breaking down. "It's just everything! The pretending! The lies! Sitting on the god damn edge of my seat every freakin' day waiting for someone to crack! It's just... it's everything, mama. I hate it." _

_"Troy..." Lucille backed away slowly, in literal fear of her son at that moment in time, surprisingly. His lash out was unlike him. Although no one had been acting like themselves lately, it was still highly unusual. _

_"I seriously just can't deal with this anymore." And with that, Troy made the biggest hell-raising gesture he had made in his fifteen year long life. He turned around, back to his polar opposite parents and walked out the door. _

_In the noticeably silent household that Troy had just so irrationally abandoned, his truthful words cut slits in the air. It was like they were echoing off the walls, both parents noticed but didn't dare mention. They had in fact been walking on pins and needles the last few months, and it took Troy slamming the front door for the prick to finally exceed their skin, as they felt the blood trickle cold blood trickle down. _

* * *

_Gabriella breathed in the smell of the park. She inhaled the few dog walkers, making their way either across the tiny wooden bridge that led over the small enclosure of water and the late evening couple strollers that made their way down the easy to maneuver pathways in and out of the trees. She sat on a bench, breathing ragged. Her tears had stopped running so forcefully, but it was still obvious to the observant passer-by that she had been crying._

_Tucking in her pretty purple summer dress -which she had worn hoping it to be a special occasion and not a total disaster- under her and wiping her puffy and probably pathetic looking face, Gabriella sat down on a dark wooden bench, and simply people watched. She didn't know what else to do, where to go, and the park was the only thing that had made sense to her. Sure, it was still very close to her house, but Gabriella wasn't planning on running away forever. She just needed to cool down, breathe. Just watch time escape her and find a way not to care about the events that had just transpired._

_"You mind if I sit here?" Gabriella whipped her locks around suddenly to find that, not only was an actual human being standing behind her, but it was a familiar human being. One she knew._

_Standing before the young Latino girl was none other than East High god Troy Bolton, clad in a navy blue T-shit and faded denim jeans. He repeated his question, suddenly looking quite awkward. "Do you mind? Sorry, all the other benches are either taken or have wet paint."_

_Gabriella shook her head abruptly, scotching over. "No, no, not at all."_

_"Thanks." Troy sat down silently, and Gabriella avoided looking over at him though all she wanted to do was stare him down. Did he know who she was? Did he recognize her at all? They had been in school together for one year, yet had never spoken a word to each other. But why would they? He was the golden boy of East High, the typical basket ball star that girls fawned over day and night, and Gabriella was... what? Normal. Plain. She was a member of the scholastic decathlon and just your average overachiever with a medium amount of friends and certainly no fan club that stalked her. She was a Plain Jane and he was a Basketball God. Not necessarily your best mixture._

_Or so she had thought._

_"I know you... don't I?" he smirked slightly, but it was still barely evident. In his eyes was genuine curiosity._

_"Um, well, you-I-I... I think you go to my school." Gabriella didn't want to sound like creepy stalker girl - freaky math girl was bad enough, she's wasn't trying to add to the list of mocking nicknames - so she played it coy, not letting on that she knew his full name, basketball jersey number, and what his third period was... mainly because he had it with her._

_"Of course, sorry. I just spaced. You're um..."_

_"Gabriella," she supplied, and he nodded, as if that's what would have been his next guess. Yeah right._

_He stuck out his hand, trying to behave in a civilized manner - ironic considering how he'd just treated his dad less than ten minutes ago. "Troy."_

_Gabriella shook the extended peace offering, careful not to cling too long for fear of coming off in a mistaken way. "Nice to meet you... or see you again I guess."_

_"Yeah," he chuckled. "So, can I ask why a young lady like yourself is out in the chilly breeze tonight? Shouldn't you be out partying your summer away?" He winked his playful ceruleans at her. She blushed crimson._

_"Partying... not really my thing." Gabriella inspected his reaction timidly. She half-expected him to respond in a derogatory way; to not understand one bit and figuratively spit on her and her shyness. But instead, to the girl's surprise, he nodded in understanding, acknowledging her point of view and not dismissing it. If anything, actually, he agreed with it._

_"Yeah... yeah I get that." His orbs clouded over with something Gabriella couldn't exactly pinpoint, and appeared to be engrossed with the image of each individual blades of grass, that danced gracefully in the wind._

_Gabriella knew that he was thinking of something tragically important, because she got the same look in her eyes when she thought of her father._

_After a few minutes, Gabriella pressed on, anxious to continue her exchange with him. She found him oddly easy to talk to. "Troy Bolton, captain of the basketball team and winner of the Danforth beer chug '05 isn't madly infatuated with partying? What?" Gabriella mock gasped._

_"Ah... you heard about that?" He smiled, though she could tell he was uncomfortable as he ran his left hand up and down his pant leg, as if scrubbing something._

_"Of course I did. It was this close to becoming Albuquerque Evening News material."_

_His eyes sparkled with laughter. "Well, don't believe everything you hear."_

_"So it wasn't true?"_

_"No. It was. I'm just saying for future reference." She giggled, her heaving vocal chords soaring with grace and charm. Troy ended up thinking it was the most unbelievably cute sound he'd ever heard in his life. He made a mental promise to himself to make her laugh more often, if possible. "But about me being a party animal, that's not necessarily true. Henceforth, don't immediately believe everything you stumble across."_

_She nodded her soft curls, cocoa irises twinkling in the reflection from the impending starry night sky. Troy, shockingly, felt his heart jump at the sight and couldn't deny the unfamiliar tingling and fumbling in his stomach. All his troubles found themselves floating away in a puff of smoke and this newfound feeling of a crush -exciting, unpredictable, and addicting in all its glory- took their place. It was an embraced change._

_"Well, I guess I'll be more hesitant next time then."_

_"Good." They smiled at each other, and the commotion of the park and of the nighttime crickets and all the other sounds faded into a distance as their eyes locked._

_Gabriella had had many crushes in her lifetime. Mostly with boys at school, and one time with her twenty-something math teacher Mr. Reynolds in sixth grade, mainly because he took a special interest in her and made learning algebraic expressions somewhat entertaining. But she had never felt anything the least bit similar to what she felt when she looked into Troy Bolton's laughing, dancing, and glittering-with-charm azure eyes. She had never experienced such a rush, such an explosion of emotion. She had never undergone the twittering thrills the throbbed in her abdomen, or the shivers of anticipation that heightened her body temperature. It was amazing, bizarre, intriguing... wonderful. Gabriella didn't know what to label it as back then, -she didn't even know what she felt then- but she knew for certain that something special was underneath those pools of blue. Something definite._

_Something real._

_And Gabriella had a good feeling that maybe Troy felt it too._

_"Hey, did you... did you wanna go grab something to eat?" He closed his eyes, preparing for a negative reply. But to his surprise, she agreed, quite enthusiastically at that._

_"Yes! I, uh, I mean, sure." They both sat up from the bench and made their way down the narrow pathway of the park, avoiding colliding with passerby's._

_"How does CeCe's parlor sound?"_

_"Fantastic." Gabriella retorted, delighted with the idea. "Ice cream is my favorite thing in the world. If the world were ever to come to a screeching halt one day, I'd want ice cream right before we all explode."_

_"Good to know," he chuckled. Gabriella inwardly cursed a string of forbidden talk in her mind. Damn it, why was she sharing so much with him? She had never even had a conversation with him before that evening, and all of a sudden she was sharing her secret world destruction fantasy with him? What was with her? Gabriella was so used to being closed off from outsiders, so skeptical of strangers... but he was different. He was Troy. And maybe it was stupid, but she felt safe with him._

_Unexpectedly, Gabriella halted. Troy stopped a few steps in front of her, looking at her quizzically. "What is it?"_

_"Sorry... I just..." She looked up to him, the overwhelming crush of sincerity and confusion in his irises making it hard to breathe. Damn, he was hot. "I don't know where the ice cream parlor is." She lied._

_He smiled reassuringly. Maybe he knew she was lying. Maybe he could tell she was scared. Maybe he was scared too. Irregardless, he winked charmingly and swayed his head forward. "Follow me," he said._

_And she did. And recalling Troy's earlier advice, she was skeptical. He probably hadn't intended it to imply now, but she couldn't help herself. He was the most popular, well-known boy in the school and she wasn't exactly the Madonna of East High. It didn't make sense, on one hand. But on the other hand, -the hand Gabriella was paying attention to that night- not many good things did. So she took an unexpected leap of faith that night, relying on gravity alone to bring her back down_.

* * *

**Sorry for the cliché last scene... I just needed it because it's important for the story later! Thanks for reading! PLEASE REVIEW! :) **


	5. Communication Breakdown

_"There's no use talking about the problem unless you talk about the solution."_

* * *

"Dude," the large circular sphere shaped object stopped spinning on Troy's tanned fingers and his cerulean smaller spheres turned to trace the outline of massively wild hair, the massively wild hair of his best friend and teammate, Chad Danforth. "What's your problem?"

It was often said that the unrelated brothers had an understanding, a telepathic consciousness of one another's innermost feelings. And on the outside they did, they really did seem to have the tightest bond two friends could possibly have. And for the most part, they lived up to expectation. They met almost daily for their basketball rituals and spend a studious amount of time lazing around each others house so much they were considered family to the opposite household. They confided in each other the simple matters, like who they thought had the tightest ass in school or what they REALLY thought of the newest trend at school.

It was a meaningful friendship, but to a certain degree. They never crossed the father line, the line of utter silence and betrayal. It was taboo; off limits. And besides, Troy knew Chad didn't know the truth anyway. He could tell by his friend's ignorance of that the crucial underlining of him and his father's relationship - the army and all it's bloody glory - was far from where Chad's head was. He didn't fully grasp onto that concept; he knew enough, but not enough to really know.

"I don't know what you mean." He did though. He did know what he meant. It was no secret that Troy hadn't been behaving as himself lately, covering his emotions thickly to the point where most people didn't notice. Troy should have known that Chad didn't fall into the category of 'most people'.

"Don't lie to me Bolton," Chad motioned with his fingers for Troy to relinquish the ball and the Tarzan headed boy caught it with swift ease, tossing it subconsciously from left hand to right hand. "I know you better than anyone. Spill. Tell me what's up."

Troy sighed. No sense lying now, he was on to him. Even given that there were somewhat few lights that shone brightly in Chad's thick scalp, he was no moron. He could tell when something was up, particularly with Troy. He knew when something was bothering Troy before he even knew it himself sometimes.

"I just... God, dude. Everything is all screwed up." Heavy muscles descended to the summer smelling blades of grass that sat in Troy's backyard. Normally, Troy loved the smell of the fresh summer sun. He could inhale it for hours, just lounging in the grass and plucking strands from the depths of the ground. "Dad's riding me so hard now, I can barely even focus straight. I promised Gabriella that after the year was over we'd have as much time as we pleased together, but it's just not happening. Things are too complicated and just..." Chad studied his friend as he trailed off, gazing off into some distant, probably unpleasant, place.

"Are things bad between you and Gabi?" Chad asked, concerned. Yes, he would long to be Troy's number one, but he had secretly accepted long ago that Gabriella had taken the place in Troy's locked-off heart was the brunette beauty and she wasn't going anywhere any time in the near future.

Troy shook his head. "Nah, things are fine. Great, actually. It's just... my dad..." Troy trailed off, the blazing sun sending its electric heat waves to the curve of his eyes, forcing him to squint at his friend. He truly didn't need to say much else. Chad understood. Very vaguely, but he understood.

It didn't take someone with an IQ of unreached genius to realize that Troy and his father weren't always on the best of terms, and after knowing them for a while - eighteen years in Chad's case - it wasn't too puzzling to figure out why. They had always butted heads, always expected more from the other or anticipated the worst. Chad had seen it firsthand numerous times. Troy would never admit it aloud - far too vulnerable of situation for a Bolton - but it was evident in his actions. They say actions speak louder than words, and Troy was the exact sample person for that motto. So maybe Chad didn't know all of what Troy felt deep inside - neither did anyone else really - but he knew enough. Enough to make a legitimate guess and usually come up along the right lines about something negative that was possessing Troy's mind.

What that thing was _about_ though was a completely different ball game.

Silence was the aftermath of the quiet reflection and grasping of the problem. Chad need a moment to contemplate his next strategy of getting Troy to open up - and Troy needed to concentrate on anything but the problem. So baskets were thrown, narrowly missed, dribbled on the hot and intense court then shot again. It was an endless cycle. Not just the shooting of the baskets, but the mental game of release and reflect they played together unknowingly; Troy unleashed some recent conundrum or frustration he had without giving away too much information into the lengthy realms of his private feelings. It left Chad crazy with curiosity, not only for his friend but for his own selfish nosiness. It just killed him that what he sensed was one of the biggest concerns in his best friends life he was no part of.

"Dude." Chad's voice rang like a shotgun, blasting him out of his miserable free throw. The orange piece of equipment bounced heavily in Troy's sweaty hands, not leaving under the command of his tight wrists. "Would you just open up for one god damn minute? If you just talked, maybe you'd feel better and not looking like a freaking zombie all the time."

Chad's words cut deep, but underneath all the faking Troy knew he was right.

"Okay bro."

Chad did a double take. "What?"

"I said okay. I'll-I'll share. That all right with you?" The caramel kid's head nodded instantly. He hadn't really expected his best friend to agree, and without a fight, at that.

"Go ahead."

Troy sighed. "I just... life is coming at me so fast, and all I really want is for it to slow down."

Chad eyed him confusedly. Troy decided to try a different approach, perhaps simpler to grasp for his best friend. He tucked the dirt-covered basketball under his right arm and spoke.

"Think of it this way: We're in a game, okay, the playoffs." Chad nodded. Simple enough, he thought. "Twenty seconds left on the clock and you have the ball. Now, there are people all over you. You can barely breathe, okay? You see a tiny opening where you might possibly be able to make a shot, but it's not very promising. It's all so hectic; there are people screaming at you from the bleachers, coaches instructing you from the sidelines and the opposite team mocking you incessantly the entire time too. But most of all, there's that voice in your head, constantly telling you what to do then questioning it for you. But before you even have time to think about what to do or where to shoot... it's over. Clock stops, crowd boo, game over. You lost. And you didn't even have time to try to make a shot."

Chad analyzed this for a bit. He didn't know what to make of his best friend having such unfair thoughts. "That's harsh, man," was all he could think of.

Troy didn't say anything else. Chad didn't either. He thought that maybe it was just because the conversation was mainly over, and Troy didn't have anything else that needed to be vented, but deep down he knew that wasn't the real reason.

The exchange was dissolving into thin air because there was nothing that could be said. Chad didn't know how to comfort his troubled friend and Troy didn't know how to ask for help.

It was a blind-leading-the-blind situation; neither really knew what they were doing. Emotional talks had never been Troy's forte and Chad was just a stumbling goofball when it came to sentimentality. Just ask Taylor.

But Chad noticed one thing his normally unperceptive eyes never caught on to; that between Troy and himself, his best friend since kinder, his lifelong brother, there was a sense of awkwardness. A sense of inability to complete a conversation - something unheard of between the two. It frightened Chad, more than he'd like to admit. For once in the eighteen years they'd known each other, there was something difficult to pass among them, something stopping them from being completely honest with each other.

It left a terrible, unknown taste and Chad's mouth and a churning feeling in his stomach. And Chad found himself asking himself a very pointed and direct, yet maybe unanswerable, question.

What was his best friend not telling him?

* * *

Troy walked through the vast mahogany doors that led inside his house. His mission? Get across the sweeping living room and kitchen without being caught. Not exactly the easiest task in the world.

Though his mother wasn't home (at her weekly book club meeting for Jane Austen) and didn't know the whereabouts of his brother and father, his two biggest problems. Henry's schedule was unpredictable; ever since he had returned home from Iraq after serving three years as a trained, defensive and aggressive solider, apparently he was tired to his very core and opted to stay at home binging on pepperoni pizza and Pepsi rather than branch out into the real world. His mother said Henry was recuperating from his intense battles in the war, and told Troy that he should just leave him be, because no one knows what he went through there. Troy might be able to give him the benefit of the doubt… but it was highly unlikely that Henry had been traumatized and much more likely that Henry chose his reclusive lifestyle based on his own natural tendencies.

Henry had always been a party boy, but he was never the initiator. He was always the follower. He never started the party; he got asked to come. So, Troy figured, that when Henry arrived home, realization slowly dawned on him that his friends had moved on with their lives. It crept up on him that while Henry was off playing Rambo, his buddies were off getting college degrees and starting businesses. The thought apparently had never crossed his dutiful little mind.

And now Henry was lost in the cold, partial world and figured he had missed his chance to bounce up in a secular career. Troy of course felt sorry for the guy, but knew deep down that he had asked for this all along. He should have expected it. Life doesn't slow down for you, no matter what. However, for Henry, it always had, and he had apparently never noticed how the revolution of the earth affected other people's lives as well. But Troy couldn't be mad at him for that; he had been sheltered, it wasn't his fault. And though Troy could easily and perhaps rightfully resent Henry for everything that had turned out sourly for Troy due to him, he could not be mad. He could not harbor a grudge. Because no matter what, even if Troy's relationship with his father with was effectively ruined entirely, there was a small and childlike voice inside him telling him that it wasn't Henry's fault, it wasn't Henry's fault, it wasn't Henry's fault.

They were brothers and nothing could change that. Not even Jack.

Jack Bolton could really be anywhere at that moment. He was the basketball coach and Henry and Troy's former school, therefore when school was out, he was out of work. Some summers he would take a job at the local car repair shop. Other summers he would work his butt off whipping people into shape at the local gym as a part time trainer. Yes, he had his flaws but Jack was nothing if not a hard and diligent worker.

Therefore, keeping those facts in mind, Troy scurried quietly through the house to reach his bedroom, tip toeing swiftly on the wooden flooring. He was almost in the green when he felt himself collide with great momentum into what felt like a boulder or something equally as massive and rigid. Swearing loudly, he looked up to see what his unwelcomed roadblock was.

"Jesus, Henry…"

His older brother looked down at him with confused eyes. An exact replica of Troy's startling cerulean eyes. "Whoa, whoa, little brother. What are you running off to? Gabriella send you some naked pictures or something?" Henry asked. To him, it was a genuine question.

Troy rolled his orbs impatiently. Of all times for Henry to awaken from his fourteen-hour dead sleep and crawl out of his basement, why did it have to be now?

"What? No, I'm just - just got a few things to do later." It was a lie. (Well, not about the naked pictures of Gabriella, but of having some type of important cannot-be-late-for plans.) To be frank, honesty was really the last thing on Troy's mind right then.

Henry nodded slyly and coolly, not saying anything more. As if some brother code forbid him from denying his brother the opportunity of seeing naked ladies. Troy would have found humor in this if he wasn't so agitated.

"Okay, well… gotta run." Troy dashed to his room, slammed the door shut immediately. His brother would probably assume he was crazy but Troy didn't really care at that moment. He just wanted to take a moment to bask in the satisfaction of completing his mission and not being reprimanded or lectured by his father that afternoon. He breathed in relief and stood there for a peaceful second.

He smiled. Troy decided it was to be a good day.

A minute later he reached for his cell to make a phone call to Gabriella, and the basking and the glowing in the good fortune for that day was over, half forgotten.

Later on, Troy would wish that he would have savored that moment longer or etched it into his memory. Because for a while, it was the only good memory he had. Since, unbeknownst to him, change and heartache loomed in the very immediate future and before he could even attempt to recapture that moment, that priceless minute of pure delight, it was gone in a flash; vanished into thin air, and he would be left with nothing to hold onto but memories.


	6. Gunshot

**It's legitimately official; I am the worst updater on the planet. I sincerely apologize, but just know that the reason I'm taking so long is - not only that I'm hideously busy - but that I am trying to nail this story, and it just takes more time that way. Hopefully it'll pay off in the end. But in the meantime, while everyone hates me, I'm sorry.**

**Are there life forms out there? Hello? Please, if you love this story so much you want to be betrothed to it, or hate it with such fiery passion that you want to murder it gruesomely, click on the big, beautiful review button on the bottom of the screen and tell me why. **

**Thank you and enjoy. **

* * *

_"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love."_

* * *

Thirty seconds left on the clock.

Energetic shouts and petrified screams are being launched from every direction of the auditorium. Noise from every angle, yet he could only hear his own heartbeat, drumming faster and louder with each tick of the timer.

The orange, rubbery sphere glazes his fingers once, twice, a third time. His mop of bronze hair tilts to see the hoop, large and tall in all its glory, sitting there waiting for him to make the last move. This is his game now. Only his game.

Sweat glistens from every crook of his body, but he paid no mind. The crowds cheering, the buzz of adrenaline he had made everything fade into a blurry distance.

_Thirty seconds Troy_, _thirty seconds_, he reminds himself. _Don't mess it up_.

He raises his tanned hands that held the key to his victory, and quickly maneuveres himself so he has a clear shot, away from all his opponents. He hesitates, and in that moment sees everything that could be; everything that was possible but not true. He shoots the ball, his crystal blue orbs lifting his head to see the outcome of his wish. And as the ball moved slowly to the net, he feels light. Atmospheric, almost. He doesn't feel hope, he doesn't feel disappointment, he doesn't feel anything at all. And even when the ball circles the top of the net and then finally falls to the side of the court, and the timer buzzes with an obnoxious beeping sound, he still doesn't feel any emotion.

The crowd booes heavily, his teammates radiate off disappointment and failure, but he still does not feel a single thing. Darkness comes in around him, calls of his name are shouted in different voices, and eventually sound drowns out completely, yet he still does not harbor a reaction. No, the only twinge of pain begins when he feels a sharp pain in his chest, and gun shots begin firing from every direction. He doesn't understand it. But right now he can't think.

All he feels is the intense hurt at this moment, centered somewhere around his heart.

Troy awoke with a sudden jolt and sweat glistening on his forehead. He immediately and reflexively put his hand to his chest. No damage, no wound, he was fine. It had just been a dream, thank God.

But it was damn scary.

Troy was no stranger to nightmares. Yeah, just like everyone else he had them occasionally. But never like that. Never ones that scared the life out of him, made him feel threatened. That was new. That was something different. And as he got up out of bed and tried to shake off the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach by taking a shower, it didn't seem to work. He felt like there was some sixth sense flaring up, urging him desperately to pay attention and be careful that day. Like his dream would have something in common with reality.

But, like with all his emotions, Troy fought against the fright and carried on with his daily duties, determined to not let it foil his day.

He should have paid more attention.

* * *

Henry was born a genuinely curious kid.

When he had been younger, discovering new information about things had been his favorite hobby. He loved to know how things worked, why they worked, and what happened because they worked. He remembered from a very young age, asking questions like there was no tomorrow. Whether it was to his mother and father or to the lady at the grocery store, he always loved questions. Getting that spark in some person's eye or a lazy eye roll from uttering those interrogative sentences just made him feel content.

Henry loved figuring out different things too, coming up with conclusions all on his own. It was exhilarating in a way, impulsive too, depending on what he was doing. When he got a bit older, he enjoyed taking apart his father's mechanical tools in the shed, just to see if he knew how to put them back together again. It was an endless game; an unconventional puzzle that he was addicted to.

No matter what, curiosity was what inspired Henry overall. If he was wondering something, he would never pass up the chance to inquire about it.

Normally.

But his addiction could be passed up anytime if an angry Jack Bolton was somewhere in sight. And judging by the way his father slammed his usual coffee mug down on the brown counter, took the coffee pot out and poured it in a manner that made it sprinkle puddles on both sides, Henry assumed today would not be a good day to ask his father any questions.

"Hey dad..." He tried to brighten the mood, speaking hesitantly.

"Morning Henry," Jack's voice was solemn.

Now, Henry - as did all the Bolton's' and everyone who really came in contact with Jack - knew his father wasn't a soft guy. He was hard-headed, and generally closed-off and close minded. And Henry had gotten used to that by now.

But that didn't mean he wanted to be in the same room as Jack when he was in one of his 'moods'.

So, Henry quickly scrambled to get his normal cereal out of the cupboard, pour in into a glass bowl, and retreat quietly to the confines of his bedroom/choice hiding spot.

Just as the door to the basement clicked closed, Troy appeared in the kitchen. He eyed his father carefully, noticing his back stiffen as soon as he heard Troy's footsteps enter.

And Troy had a pretty good guess that he had chosen the uncomfortable position of his front facing the counter while he drank his coffee, just so he could avoid looking into his son's startlingly cerulean eyes.

As shameful as it was to admit, that hurt. Badly.

But Troy was determined to be the bigger man. After talking with Gabriella last night over the phone that thought had been reaffirmed in his mind. No matter what his dad did or said, he needed to remain calm and focused. He couldn't let his emotions get the best of him, not like they usually did. So he was not going to be quickly deceived by his father's cunning words or actions.

He hoped.

"Morning, dad," Troy muttered hesitantly.

His father's posture stiffened a bit more and he didn't breathe. "Morning." He replied tensely, still not moving from his uncomfortable position. God, his father couldn't even bear to say his name aloud!

Troy didn't move either. He was afraid that if he even made an effort to open the fridge or a cupboard, the volcanic eruption of his father's frustration and tenseness would come boiling out and burn him to scraps.

After what felt like ten minutes of deafening silence, his father slowly put down his empty coffee mug and sighed. Troy knew what was coming.

"Troy, we need to talk." His back still faced away but Troy could read his expression: unemotional and compressed, like always. He inhaled and exhaled. He kept silent for a few seconds.

"I know, Dad, I know." His father finally turned to face the boy, the boy who only shared his high cheekbones and thick eyelashes. Nothing more.

He put down his white coffee mug and looked at Troy sternly. Really, though, he didn't have another facial expression.

"Son, I need you to really think about your future. Think about what's best for us, what's best for our family. What's best for our country, Troy?"

That line, that exclamation, that spiel, was nothing new to Troy. They had had this fight so many times they might as well have been following lines of a script.

"What about what's best for me?" Troy demanded, his cerulean eyes suddenly set ablaze with fire. "What about what I want?"

Troy's dad, being the unfalteringly pushy man that he is, had already contacted a local recruiter and sent him to meet with Troy. Troy had been beyond furious with this outcome, and had refused to meet with the man. Still though, Jack Bolton seemed not to transport the message of unwavering resistance on Troy's part to his brain, and would not stop. The last part of Troy's signing up would be going to MEPS. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Troy, sometimes we have to make sacrifices..."

"For the better of our community, our family and our honor. I know, dad, I do. I've heard you say it a million times."

"Then why don't you get it?"

"No, why don't _you_ get it dad?" Jack looked at him, almost taken aback by the quick outburst. Usually it would take a good fifteen minutes of arguing for them to finally start the real shouting.

"Troy-" his father began, only to be sharply cut off by his son's harsh voice.

"Well, some things are more important, dad."

"Like what? Enlighten me, Troy."

The unwilling pair had moved to the living room area, the lounging chair and brown sofa staring at them, mocking them as they fought.

"Like..." He was positive his father already knew the answer, the reason behind all his resistance, but he still didn't want to utter it or else give his dad the pleasure. He couldn't say her name, it would taint the conversation.

"Like people. People in my life, people in my family. Maybe I don't want to just abandon them."

"It's a sacrifice we have to adapt to, _Troy__._ It may not be easy, but you have to accept it." His words sliced into him, grated him like a piece of cheese. For some reason, though he said he was already decided upon staying here, those words made him shiver and a feeling of bitter truth settled in upon him.

"Accept it? Accept it? I'm sorry, I know mom took everything you did to her lying down, took you leaving her for five years without a single damn complaint. But not everyone's like that. Not everyone has the ability to leave their significant other for however freaking long amount of years, and expect them to still be true! It's an unfair proposition and-"

"Significant other? _Significant other_?" Jack laughed sneeringly. Troy felt outrage scorch through his blood. "Troy, what you have with Gabriella... it's nothing! It's puppy love, if even that! After you get back from the war, she'll have forgotten all about your little relationship, as will you. You're eighteen, Troy. Be realistic." Jack walked away, either aiming for the kitchen or his bedroom. Whichever one it was doesn't matter, because what Troy uttered next made Jack stop dead in his tracks.

"Whatever the hell we have... it's real. Unlike what you have with mom. What you fake, what you pretend. It's all lies. You hate being here with us and you know it. War is your only escape, your only way to imagine you're somewhere else. It's your way to fool yourself into thinking you have a calling of some sort. Like you have a purpose. But bad news dad: Fighting isn't a talent. It's a curse."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," Jack seethed. His back was facing Troy, and he could see it clench up and freeze in fury. Troy gulped. It was rare for his father to become so enraged that he spoke semi-calmly.

"You are going to sign up tomorrow. That's final."

Troy should have been afraid by this time, and rightfully so. Who knew what his father would do, or say. But he was on a role now. He couldn't stop. For some unknown reason, these slicing yet truthful words were spewing from his mouth like lava from an erupting volcano.

It was unstoppable.

"Oh, but like you just pointed out, I'm eighteen years old dad! You can't force me to do anything anymore. I'm not just gonna do what you say because you're the dictator of the family. I'm not your little minion like Henry was."

"Don't bring your damn brother into this Troy. This doesn't involve him in the least. This is about you and your ignorant opinions and naive perceptions of what's right and what's not. You-"

"But you're wrong! You're so wrong; it does have to do with Henry. It has everything to do with Henry! Henry's the reason we're standing here right now, isn't he? If Henry hadn't agreed to fulfill the tradition, then neither would I. So, actually, yeah dad, Henry plays a pretty important part in this little charade."

"Henry made a choice, an excellent choice. Henry should be your role model, the person you _aspire_ to be. And Henry sure never gave me the kind of bull crap you are right now!" There he went, comparing them again. It made bile rise in the base of Troy's throat. But he carried on.

"Henry didn't have any other option! You pressured him! You made him! Henry had his whole life ahead of him, and now he's lost, because of you!" Troy exclaimed, red hot with boiling indignation at his father's twisted lies... or were they truths?

"Henry's scattered life is no fault of mine. It's a tradition, a tradition I respected, my father respected, my father's father respected, as well as Henry. Now you, Troy, are expected to honor it too. And you're telling me no, telling me that this custom, carried on for generation-after-generation of fighting for freedom is 'inconvenient' for you because of some girl? Is that really what you're telling me Troy Bolton? How selfish and unappreciative are you?" Jack's normally hazel colored eyes turned pure midnight black that day, with a tint of detestation.

"I'm selfish and unappreciative?" Troy forced a bitter, sarcastic chuckle from the depths of his throat. "That's an awfully hypocritical thing to say, coming from a man who forces unwanted lifestyles - possible _death_ - on his children. Just so you can have to glory of saying your kids have gone to war. Just so you can feel like a good father. Like you knocked this ball outta the park."

Like a burst of crashing thunder, Jack's rough hand collided with Troy's delicate cheek.

_Boom._

Silence.

There was deafening silence for a never-ending minute. It could have been an hour, neither noticed.

Troy stumbled back in temporary shock. His father, as terrible as he had been to him some times in his life, had never struck him. The abuses he had suffered were never physical.

And if Troy's assumption was correct, his father seemed pretty surprised at his actions himself. Jack usually was very good at keeping his vulnerable expressions in check, but at that moment, for only the briefest time, Troy saw true emotion in his father's eyes. Which emotion, he couldn't pinpoint. Regret? Anger? Betrayal? Hurt? It was nearly impossible to tell.

But the emotions Troy felt - the anger, the hurt, the _pain_ - his father's midnight orbs paled in comparison.

Troy considered retaliating, making his father feel the same ache he did. He considered saying something hurtful and meaningless - throwing cuss words at him or just plain throwing things at him. But none of that would do any good, he realized. He could bitch, scream, refuse and deny, - heck, he could even write a 1,000 word essay - but that would still not change his father's adamant stance.

He was not changing. It was his way or the highway.

Jack mutated back into the form of his regular self; his mask of detachment arriving once again. "You can do whatever you like, Troy. But Gabriella... she's not gonna stay with you forever. She'll never love you like you love her, Troy. Never."

Troy dazedly stormed out of the house. The illuminated and conflicting sunlight zinged off him with incredible speed.

Why had it taken him eighteen years to recognize this? Why had he always just assumed that - with a little convincing from his mother and a lot of time - his father would come around to the idea of Troy staying home, and going to college on a basketball scholarship? That his father would eventually understand?

It was clearly evident that he never would.

Troy had to make a decision. The stinging truth hit him...

Like a gunshot.

* * *

Just a little over 2.4 miles away – though it seemed like worlds - Gabriella Montez sat on the purple and white flowered comforter of her soft bed. She looked down, admiring the decoration that she so adored as her younger sister Ellie rambled on about her latest boyfriend and school and the issues that were affecting that relationship now. Gabriella pretended to listen.

It didn't really matter overall; they would be broken up within the week, like all the other previous rejects.

She sighed and removed her eyes from her trance, smile faltering slightly. There were ways in which she and her caramel eye colored, sixteen year old sister were alike, yes, but their differences seemed to overshadow their similarities at times.

Take now, for instance. Ellie was born a boy crazy, male hungry, serial dater, whereas Gabriella was an emotionally shy, and intensely private non-dater. (That was before Troy entered the picture, of course.) In fact, before Troy, Gabriella had had only one past boyfriend, and that was in eighth grade, which only lasted a two weeks and in the giving of her first kiss to a loud, pompous and selfish boy. After that, she had vowed to never, ever let herself fall into the trap of self-centered boys again. And Troy was the only person she ever broke that rule for.

Ellie, though, apparently had never had the same dreadful experience and had acquired boyfriend after boyfriend. She just could not seem to stick to one guy for too long; they all had too many flaws for her liking or she found another winning specimen before the others could prove their worth to her.

Now don't be misled; Gabriella loved her sister immensely. She was her best friend, her confident. But she knew how fickle and superficial she could be, and she reckoned Ellie probably knew it herself.

However, it was how she dealt with the burdensome stress in her life, and Gabriella couldn't really blame her for that. As long as Ellie wasn't severely damaging herself in the process, then Gabriella figured all the little games she played were harmless. And if they weren't, she figured she'd still have to let her sister realize that on her own.

She couldn't protect her from everything, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

"And so I asked him. I'm like, 'Is it true? Did you really say that to her?' And he was like, 'I dunno, kinda.'" Ellie paused to make a disgusted, 'are-you-serious' face. "What the hell kind of answer is that, you know? It's like, I broke up with Kevin for him and everything 'cause I thought Brad and I really had a connection but then he goes and flirts with all these other girls and it's like... Ugh!"

Ellie blew air out of her mouth and let her skinny arms that were previously used for dramatic effect droop to her sides. Clearly, she was drained physically and enraged emotionally. And as she sitting there on the sweetly printed bedspread, Gabriella remembered the similarities between them that she had so easily forgotten.

They had the same eyes. Gabriella's were a tint darker, but if you looked in the light haze of the sun you would claim them identical. Their skin was also the same olive tan color, one so heavily sought after by millions of woman but came naturally to them. Their hair also had a matching thickness to it, with spirals of waves that cascaded down, even though Ellie usually straightened hers to a crisp and solid line. Apart from their physical traits, passion was a characteristic both Montez's so fiercely had.

Though she may not show it to just anyone, Gabriella was actually a deeply passionate person. She had many passions in her life, but only few she actually generated a true fondness for.

Writing, for example, was one of them.

Gabriella wasn't a very showy or self-centered person; she never placed herself on a higher plane than anybody else. But she had always praised herself on being a fantastic journalist. She had a knack for it, she really did. Ever since a young age, Gabriella loved finding out new information, grasping onto new ideas and holding them close to present later. She was a very articulate person and finding out the truth about something, helping someone discover something very prevalent and important was something that interested her tremendously.

She yearned to be out there, in the murky waters of lies and truth, deciphering for herself the definition of right in wrong in a masterpiece of a story.

She had always assumed, when she was younger, that once she finished high school she'd automatically get into Stanford, the school of her dreams, and get her Bachelors degree in journalism there. She'd move to the big city and go from there; maybe buy a fancy loft, join the journalistic career and move up from there. Her all-time goal was to work for The New York Times one day, but she still had very little faith that that would become reality. Still, she had always promised herself that she would try.

Until her father died.

Then her dreams blew out the window in a puff of dark smoke called tragedy and she was forced to abandon her once-upon-a-time vivid dreams. She had to put them on hold for her sister, for her mother, for herself.

And now for Troy.

But no matter what – even if she aimed for being the editor of The New York Times or just a writer for Golfing Monthly – writing would always be in her veins, a part of her identity. It would always be something that sparked a fire inside her, made her delve deeper and deeper into an intriguing story.

It was undeniable.

But writing was just the first page – figuratively – of her list of passions. Her other major love?

Well, that was easy: Troy.

Troy may not be a literal hobby or interest, but to her he was. She just couldn't get enough of him, couldn't be without him. Whenever he was with her, when he gave her his all and every part of him, there was still something inside her that wanted more. That craved him to be closer, to know more about her, to stay longer. She sounded like some love-struck, lustful teenager, she knew it herself – but she just couldn't hide it.

There was always something unexplainable, something deeper than desire and love that ignited in her heart whenever she glanced up into his startling cerulean eyes. Something magical.

Troy and Gabriella depended on one another in a deep and unspoken way. It was motivated by love and loyalty, but underneath there was a fear and loneliness too, wasn't there?

It was driven by passion and pain – that need, that fear was. They both, in essence, had nothing.

Except each other.

Gabriella knew this. Troy did too. And to be honest, it scared her. The thought… the feeling that your entire heart rests in the hands of one human being. To know that with one word or action they could take it all away and crush it like a bug frightened her more than she would like to admit.

But she trusted Troy. She knew Troy. She_ loved_ Troy. She knew he would never to anything to jeopardize their relationship. She knew he loved her far too much to do anything like that.

Which is why, simply, he was her favorite passion.

Gabriella smiled merrily to herself. _If only Ellie could feel this type of love, this everlasting security, _she thought wistfully. _Then she'd be perfectly content for the rest of her life. _

"Ella!" Ellie whined, whisking Gabriella away from her peaceful state of mind. "What should I _do?"_

Gabriella's mocha orbs identified with her sisters. "I… I don't know, Ellie. Maybe you should just take a break from guys for now."

"Take a break from guys? What are you insane? I'm not a lesbian!" Ellie looked horrified.

"No, Ellie! I mean like just take a breather. Don't go out with anyone for a while. Just relax."

Ellie seemed to contemplate this for a long minute. Then her coffee orbs came back up to look at her older sister, a smile playing softly on her lips. "Ella? What's love like?"

As boy crazy as Ellie was, she was not naïve. She had never claimed to be in love or anything close to it. But she had long ago accepted to the fact that her sister was - deeply. And it boggled her mind.

"Love in general or love with Troy?"

"Love with Troy."

Gabriella held back a giggle – Ellie could be so innocently obvious sometimes.

"Well it's… it's amazing, El. It's like the most peaceful state of being ever. It's like… I can never fall. I mean, obviously I'm not indestructible, I can still feel hurt and bad things still happen to me. But with Troy… those bad things aren't so bad anymore. Because when I'm with Troy, I feel so secure. Not untouchable, but secure. Like whatever the world throws at me I can handle, because I have him right there by my side.

And it's… when he kisses me, it's like I never want that moment to end. And when it's going, I feel like it never will. I feel like we're living in forever."

Ellie grinned at her sister's incomprehensible emotion. Gabriella came back down to earth and smiled shyly back.

"And even what I just said, that still isn't even scratching the surface. There are still so many feelings I experience that I can't even label. But you'll figure them out soon enough, Ellie. You'll learn them too."

Ellie nodded contently. "It sounds really nice, Ella."

"It is."

"Now what's the sex like?"

"Ellie!" Gabriella exclaimed, blushing like a crimson red rose.

"You're blushing!" She exclaimed, pointing a skinny finger at her and laughing hysterically.

"Whatever you say, Elizabeth. I'm _not_ telling you _anything_."

She pouted. "What? Why not?"

"Because! It's an invasion of mine and Troy's privacy and you're too young." Gabriella leaned forward to grab her TV remote off her nightstand. "Plus… we haven't done it." She tried to keep a straight face, and knew if Troy had been present for this conversation, they'd be on the floor by now in hysterics.

"I'm sixteen, you know."

"I realize that. I was there, you know."

"I'm honestly curious Gabriella. Why are you denying the miracle of life to me?"

"Ha! The miracle of life? So you really wanna know about this for purely scientific purposes?"

"Uh, of course."

"Good. Read a textbook." Gabriella smiled, knowing she had won that argument and Ellie huffed, irritated.

A few moments passed, where they watched TV in silence before Ellie finally whispered, "I know you do it by the way."

Gabriella just rolled her coffee colored eyes but couldn't refrain from the stupidly wide grin that spread across her face or the feeling of butterflies in the pit of her stomach she got just thinking about the two of them together. Not physically, though that was good too, but just the thought of being in his presence. The feeling of happiness he gave her, and the love she felt for him.

And the way she knew with absolute certainty that nothing was going to stop them of being together.

Forever.

* * *

_"What you have with Gabriella... it's nothing!" _

_"Henry should be your role model, the person you aspire to be."_

_"Gabriella... she's not gonna stay with you forever. She'll never love you like you love her, Troy. Never." _

Time seemed to pass for Troy in the oddest way, a little forward, a little back.

As he walked down the street, the stinging memories of his father's previous comments fired back at him over and over. He couldn't shake them. He couldn't shake _him._

He tried to press rewind, he tried to press fast forward, he even tried to press pause but nothing worked. The harsh words – were they truths? – bit at him unrelentingly in the movie of his mind.

Troy was indecisive. Troy was confused. Troy had reason after reason in him but none of them made sense anymore.

He was tired of running. He was tired of hiding. He was tired of the hate. He just couldn't do it any longer.

Troy Bolton stood in front of The Military Entrance Processing Station uncertainly, but certain that after he walked through those doors there was no turning back ever again.

He stopped. He considered.

He made his mind go blank.

And in a split second, he was walking.

Walking away from the cold and lifeless street of the block, into the even colder and more lifeless building of the MEPS totally unprepared for what he was about to do.


	7. Enlisted

_"Would you stop thinking about what everyone thinks? Stop thinking about what I want, what he wants, what your parents want. What do you want? What do YOU want?" _

_- _The Notebook

* * *

Troy couldn't see through the fog.

Not any literal fog (Albuquerque never fogged, only dried up) but the foggy haze of his altered mind. Nothing felt real to him inside, nothing felt true. It was like he was walking around in a gigantic bubble, passing people he didn't really notice, seeing things he couldn't truly see, hearing shouts and conversations that sounded like foreign languages to him.

It was all a bizarre, twisting nightmare that seemed to have catapulted into reality.

His _new_ reality.

Troy didn't know where to go, he had forgotten who he knew. He had forgotten everyone and everything; that was what it took for him to go through with that life-altering act. He had had to become truly emotionless. To become numb to every attainable feeling and every slight thought that told him maybe - just maybe - he shouldn't have been going through with something he wasn't quite sure about.

But it was over now. All was said and done. There was no going back.

Jack Bolton had won -shockingly- in the end.

Maybe Troy knew, in some deep unconsciousness that lay within him, that he would always be the winner. It was possible that Troy knew he could not beat his dad, and despite the years of rebellion and resistance towards the sacrificial tradition of hate, he always knew that when it came right down to it, Troy didn't have it in him to be an utter disappointment to his father, or his family.

He needed his father's approval. He _craved_ it. Even if he didn't know it yet.

Ingrained in Troy Bolton's blood and heritage was the need for approval, love and acceptance.

He ducked into a nearby alley, and hopped the tall fence, unhesitant. He didn't know why, but he felt like being Spiderman. Maybe being a superhero would help him face his fate.

Eventually, he came upon a narrow pathway that lead somewhere only God knew. Troy decided to jog it - no, run it like his life depended on it. His swift movements of pure desperation and anxiety left footprints on the rainy cement. The smell of fresh air filled his nostrils at twenty miles per hour, practically. Trees, identical houses, dimly lit neighborhoods crossed through his vision as he ran, not knowing where to go but knowing where he couldn't.

Then, he came upon his destination - the only place he was safe in, that his thoughts would be heard in. His one confident, the best listener there was or ever could be:

The tree house.

Troy scampered off to the fragile, old Oak and climbed roughly around the jagged branches. He had always had a knack for participating in dangerous physical activities and coming out unscratched; the tree was no exception. Within seconds his worn-out navy Vans came in contact with the wooden border of his favorite hiding spot and he ducked carefully inside.

It was just as he remembered; ancient, dusty, falling apart; perfect.

The cool whoosh of the wind hurtled past the chestnut haired athlete, but he could not hear it over the roaring sound of his heart thumping wildly and the cold blood racing through his veins as the implications of what he had just done settled in bluntly.

* * *

Gabriella Montez didn't believe in supernatural abilities.

She wasn't an easily fooled or mislead person; she was logical, a deep thinker as well as a natural skeptic. She kept herself guarded for fear of getting hurt and only let in people and promises that were truly sincere. She didn't trust just anyone. She wasn't one to become fantasized by a TV infomercial on nail-growing products, or immediately jump into her poncho if the man on the radio said it was raining cats and dogs.

She was a careful, logical person. She prided herself on that.

On another note, Gabriella had also never been one to put trust in the belief of supernatural talents, like communicating with the dead or telling the future. It just didn't make sense to Gabriella, therefore it was not true. First off, she had never once, in all the years he had been dead, felt her dad's "presence" or felt like he was watching out for her from some hooky spiritual realm. She also didn't feel that telling the future was a truthful knack, for if someone could truly tell the future, why didn't they tell all the horrible things that were about to happen in the world? Why didn't they foretell 9/11 or Pearl Harbor?

Some things just didn't add up. And that was one of them.

So that's why it may mystify most to find that Gabriella still believed in one unexplainable thing that defied simple logic - that she could feel Troy Bolton. Not literally, of course. Not even figuratively. No, she could feel him only _emotionally_.

No, Gabriella didn't believe she had been born with some magical gift from god or cast a spell on when she was an infant that allowed her to experience or read people's thoughts or emotions; she just knew that ever since her and her boyfriend met three magical summer's ago, she had felt this baffling connection to him. Like they were on the same brainwave or something.

Gabriella could not identify it with one particular definition, she just knew it was something special.

Thus, the unsettling feeling she got in her stomach on that breezy evening in mid-June was not, she had felt that indescribable feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her something was wrong, something was out of order involving Troy.

The startlingly overwhelming feeling was enough to make her turn down the volume of her flat screen TV that sat adjacent to her creamy bedspread. It was enough to force her long legs off the comfort of her bed and down the beige carpet of their staircase, out their off-white colonial front door and down the cement pathway of her driveway.

She passed house after house on her block, as her determined little body carried her to her specific destination. It was the one place she knew he would be if something terrible had happened. The one place only _she_ knew about. The one place he felt safe enough to cool off at. His one safe haven.

She knew this because it was her safe haven, also.

Her heart thumped unsteadily, wildly in her small chest, her legs speed increasing as she got closer. The suspense was practically killing her. She nearly held her breath until she reached their tree, already positive that she would find Troy inside. But in what type of state she would find him in was still a mystery.

Gabriella climbed, stealthily, the wooden steps that barely clung to the bark and should have been replaced long ago. Once her small frame reached the top, she saw the sight she had been honestly anticipating and wholeheartedly dreading:

Troy's dejected figure sitting alone in the darkness of the tiny fort. His long legs dangled off the edge of the only other opening that existed there; it led into a now blackening sunset abyss of trees that was impossible to see beyond (it was one of the very few preserved heavily wooded areas in Albuquerque).

Gabriella kept herself positioned on her knees for a few long seconds, and took in only the back of him, waist up. His toned physique sat there desolately, his hands laid lazily in the middle of his legs, without any further specifications about where to go. His head didn't droop like an old, gloomy Eeyore, but it also didn't hold itself up with the strength and determination Gabriella was accustomed to.

Troy was a naturally tough and brave individual; it came easy for him to take his losses and make them strengths. Every time Gabriella had seen him after losing a war of words with his dad, he _never_ looked torn down. He _never_ looked beaten up. He looked strong and iron-willed. Like he was dedicated to make the next battle that they would inevitably face a winning one for him.

So to see him, even just the back of him, looking so down and torn up, so _vulnerable_, actually sent a wave of fright into Gabriella's bones. What could his father have done to Troy this time to make him feel such extreme emotion?

As she sat there she noticed his spine tense even more; letting her know he knew she was there. She inched herself closer, crawling across the wooden boards of the tree house.

"Troy?" Her meek voice sliced into the stoicism of Troy's demeanor. As she came to sit next to him, the holes she had cut into his very carefully constructed, unresponsive and cold mental state slowly began to make it sink and his emotionless exterior evaporate. When she threaded her hand through his, he melted.

She could sense it too; the wall he had put up coming down. Though this barrier was different then most (less hostile and defiant, more impassive and lost) it still came down within moments of herself being present. It didn't mean he would talk. It didn't mean he would open up. But it did mean that he had come back down to earth and escaped from the universe of being reserved and emotionless and was back to where Gabriella had a chance of reaching him.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and took his hand. She heard him swallow hard and felt his shoulders tense even more, but he did not pull away from her, so she took that as a good sign.

"Troy?" she repeated. She needed him to speak to her; to hear his voice. She didn't expect him to just open up and tell her everything that had occurred that night (without doubt, something large and horrible) but she needed some type of verbal reassurance that he was okay. At least, that he could still speak.

"Hey, I'm here. I'm right here." She moved her head off his solid shoulder so she could meet his cold cobalt eyes. Just looking into them nearly made her heart break in half. "And, I don't know what happened or what's going on right now; but I just need you to know I love you and I'm here for you, Troy. I'll always be right here... okay?" Gabriella reached her plump lips up to give him a tender kiss on the cheek.

It was all that was needed for his walls to come crashing down.

In a split second, she had her legs wrapped around him and her head pressed firmly into the crook of his neck. He held her raven colored locks in place with his right hand and pressed his fingertips into her back with an extreme amount of pressure in order to get her as close to him as humanly possible.

"Troy..." she whispered again. But this time, she wasn't trying to divulge any time of information from him. All she wanted was to say his name and feel the intake of breath he made and how sharply his heart hammered against his chest when she did.

"Gab..." He whispered her name gruffly as his fingers twined in her silky hair. She buried her face even further into the soft spot in his neck and held him tighter, if possible. And the two teenagers sat there, alone in the dark tree house, listening to each others heartbeats that seemed almost mesmeric for a long while. Neither one counted the time, or interrupted the heavenly - or hellish, depending on how you view it - silence.

Both their minds raced at one hundred miles per hour: Troy's uncertainty on whether or not to tell the love of his life about the utter defeat and the sacrificial decision he had made in the past hours paced dramatically and relentlessly through his mind. During which Gabriella's mind conjured up wildly vivid and horrifying stories of what had caused Troy to resort to such a closed off state of mind.

Amazingly, after close to an hour huddled close to one another and with their minds working at maximum speed, neither one could come up with a decision that satisfied or comforted them.

Should he tell her? _Could_ he tell her? How much would it hurt her? The questions circulated in his mind for the billionth time until he could no longer take it without having to punch or kick somebody.

He had to tell her. He needed to tell her. She deserved to know. And he deserved the backlash he would surely endure from her once the truth was revealed.

"I enlisted, Gabriella."

Gabriella's eyes snapped up to meet Troy's stormy-and-cloudy-like skyline colored eyes that were filled with undeniable pain. Her stomach immediately dropped about a thousand feet and her skinny arms felt sickeningly light on his neck, which was slick with sweat.

"What?"

Gabriella knew, deep in her heart, that she had heard correctly. And she knew, deep in her soul, that by saying_ "I enlisted"_ there was about a 99.9% chance he meant he had enlisted in the army, the thing he swore he would never do. She knew she had not just automatically misinterpreted his words for the worst, because the worst scenario was the most likely scenario.

But naive little Gabriella, the one who loved the eighteen year old she was clinging to tightly with her whole heart, wanted to grasp onto that .01% chance that she _had_ in fact misheard his statement, and that when she questioned him, he would headily deny it and tell her that she was being crazy. He would never leave her.

"I'm so sorry," was Troy's only answer, and confirmed any doubt she had regarding the last eight syllables he had uttered.

Gabriella took a deep breath, feeling heavy tears fill her chocolate-colored eyes. "Oh my god Troy... tell me... tell me this isn't real. Tell me this is some horrible joke." There was a forceful amount of pressure building itself up in Gabriella's throat, making it hard for her to breath, let alone talk.

This could not be happening. Could not.

The miserable collapse of his face into his hands told her he was dead serious.

"Troy..." Her vision was officially hindered by the amount of tears that were conjugating in her eyes. "You can't... no. You can't go... you can't leave me..."

Gabriella knew she must sound pathetic, but at that point coherency and reasonable thought were all out the window. This was her Troy, _her_ _Troy_, and here was telling her he would be leaving her? Abandoning her? This couldn't be right. This _wasn't_ right.

"Baby..." Troy grasped her fragile body in his arms and gently began to rub her back, in what he hoped was a soothing manner. In all honesty, his mind was still racing at one hundred miles per hour and his world felt cold and his body like jell-o. He had no idea what he had just done or the repercussions for it.

"You can't Troy. You have to undo it." In a rapid motion, she swung her legs off his torso and stood up, bring Troy with her. Her face was distraught with desperation, tears trailing down her normally cheery face, and Troy's heart lurched at the sight.

_I did this_, he thought. _I caused this. _

"Go undo it, Troy." She began to push him to the opening of the tree house, trying to usher him out, back to where he had came from, back to a simpler time before he had ruined everything.

As if he could really undo it.

It wasn't that it wasn't actually possible for Troy to undo his latest action, it most likely was. He could use his top-notch acting skills to fabricate a story about a health complication or a mental illness that would keep him from serving, but Troy knew that would be a waste of time. He would just end up back there, in this same predicament, some other time in the future. Maybe in a few weeks, a few months, a few years. But he knew, no matter how much he kicked and screamed, no matter how much he defied his father, he would always be the lesser one. Troy would always be the one that felt something, that harbored feelings, that let emotions get the best of him sometimes, which would always make him weaker.

All these times of sensing his father's disapproval with him, his substantial disappointment, was what drove Troy to the MEPS station that night. It was what drove Troy into the arm's of Gabriella Montez two years ago (though he didn't regret that, he was grateful for it).

So Troy had signed up because he saw no other choice - better to let go of it all now, he figured. Better to disentangle himself from everyone and everything he cares about now rather than later.

And maybe this conclusion was a selfish one, maybe it was childish, maybe it went against everything Troy had been preaching to his father for the last three years but it was Troy's last resort, his only hope of ever having a stable relationship with his father.

And though Troy did not realize it yet, he craved a relationship with his father more than anything.

"I don't deserve you, Gabi. I never did." Troy murmured detachedly, his cobalt eyes pools of dashed hopes.

Gabriella felt the tears in her orbs multiply upon hearing this. She felt the feeling of helplessness expand throughout her whole body and listening to Troy sound so dejected and hopeless.

"Don't say that Troy..." Gabriella responded, her fragile voice quivering. "We've been through... so much these past few years. We had to jump through so many hoops just to be together... Don't go back on that now. Please don't go back on that now." Her voice hitched on the last sentence and she finally felt herself tear apart at the seams.

Troy was leaving her. _Leaving_ _her_. He made it sound like he wasn't even going to fight this. All the emotions flooding her body at once made everything feel surreal and light around her.

"Please don't cry baby..." As Gabriella sank to the wooden and dirty floors of the tree house, so did Troy. Or maybe she tugged him down. She couldn't recall, as everything at the moment felt cloudy.

As her body hit the floor, Troy's arms came to circle around her petite waist. And despite the rough situation they were in that night, despite the dire implications of what Troy had just told Gabriella meant for them, despite feeling like the worst person to ever walk the planet, Troy felt himself move his head lower and kiss Gabriella tenderly on the lips. Partly because she was crying pretty hard by then and he wanted to cease her heartbreaking heaves, and partly because he knew that she was in deep pain right now, that he had caused and this was the only way he could think of to fix it.

And despite the fact that Gabriella had no idea where her and Troy stood at the moment, she felt herself turn his light, tender kiss into a deep, probing and longing one. His tongue pursued entrance inside her mouth which she immediately granted as their kisses turned fierce and passionate.

Neither knew why they were responding to this plight with such an animalistic need for touching and kissing but all Gabriella knew was she couldn't control herself any longer. She needed to feel Troy's love for her, his want, because what if she never got a chance to be with him again? What if this was it?

And as Troy felt himself be pushed farther into oblivion with Gabriella's rough kisses on his bruised lips, he couldn't help but struggle with the fact that what is this was their last time together? What if after tonight she came to her senses and hated him for the rest of her life?

The thought only made Troy press his body more against Gabriella's and kiss her vigorously.

Bottom line? They both needed one another gravely, as all coherent thoughts fled from their minds.

If the coherent thoughts had remained lodged in their brains however, maybe it would have told them that perhaps they should have considered letting their emotions get the best of them on this dim and darkened night in a rusty old tree house that they called magical. Maybe they should have talked out their feelings and decided one what was best for them, how they were going to get through this seemingly impossible trial. Probably it would have been best to think these things out, not do something so spur of the moment with so many things left unsaid.

But Troy and Gabriella did not care about these liabilities. They cared about them, in the moment - right here, right now. And they hoped fervently, intently and painstakingly, that if they held one another tight enough, if they kissed each other deeply enough, if they let their passion soak through their entwined bodies and be absorbed by the rich night sky that all these possibilities - the _ifs_,_ maybes_, and _perhaps'_- would magically and inexplicably sort themselves out by the time the sun rose. That, maybe, just maybe, but the time these two lovers reopened their eyes the next morning, everything would be back to normal and okay again. Nothing would change. They could be together forever.

But nothing is ever quite so simple and uncomplicated when war is involved.


	8. And Our World Comes to a Screeching Halt

**Please let me know what you think of this chapter! I'd really like to know your honest opinions and thoughts! And of course, thank you for reading. **

* * *

_"If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you:  
you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love... I love... I love you.  
I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." _

_- _Pride & Prejudice

* * *

Gabriella awoke to the sound of a lawn mower.

Her body immediately reacted to the strange noise, eyes flickering open to become aware of her unusual surroundings. She was used to hearing the odd lawn mower or mechanical instrument near her house, but never at this ungodly hour of the morning -because it had to be early, why else would her joints be sore with exhaustion and her eyes nearly stapled shut?

But then it dawned on her. She wasn't at home. She wasn't in the comfort of her own bed. This wasn't a regular morning like any other.

Things had changed, permanently. When Gabriella woke up she couldn't deny that.

"Mmm... Gab?" She heard Troy's husky whisper as it tickled her earlobe. She felt his snug and well-toned arm as it wrapped around her small torso. She wasn't facing him but she could smell his scent, the custom aroma of Troy Bolton; sort of like men's cologne, worn-out basketballs and, on this particular morning, love making.

Gabriella felt like falling back into a trancelike sleep again, even though she was on the uncomfortable wood floors of the tree house. But not only was the blazing lawn mower that was making its way around the grassy areas of East Eden Park below them making that impossible, but the new and ferociously fast thoughts swiveling around in her head did not allow her to either.

When Troy ran the tips of his fingers down her smooth bare arm, it made her jump. She had been so entrenched in her own thoughts of the previous night that she barely registered that their had been an inquiring tone in his last utterance.

She turned herself around so she lay on her back, her body still clad in a her clothes from last night - or, to be more accurate, eight hours ago. After they had professed their love for each other in a passionate frenzy as only two teenagers could, they had quickly became redressed, because neither of them had exactly planned ahead and brought blankets and the night air left them nearly freezing.

However, despite the lack of warmth and comfort, and the dread of the things that would inevitably transpire after the Troy's actions the night before, Troy and Gabriella had still shared an undisturbed and soothing night in each others arms.

Above all things, they had been together. And that's the only thing that mattered at that moment.

Gabriella couldn't help but smile a small smile at Troy - it was her body's natural reaction to being around him, absorbed by his loving presence.

"Hey," she whispered, as if speaking audibly would make everything that she was terrified of, - like losing Troy - not become reality.

"Hey beautiful," he replied sleepily, bringing his hand to his face to rub the sand from his eyes. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Were you too cold? I gave you my jacket in the middle of the night, but I don't know if it helped at all..." Troy began before Gabriella broke in.

"No, I was fine. Your body supplied enough heat for me." She smiled as his lips brushed tantalizingly against hers after her comment.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." She kissed him back, feeling her heartbeat increase. She loved him, man, she really did. How would she ever go on without seeing him everyday? Without being able to kiss him whenever she pleased?

"Gabi... we have to talk about last night. About what I did." Troy's voice interrupted her thoughts.

At that moment, Gabriella realized she didn't want to know the answers to her questions any time soon than absolutely necessary.

"Please, let's not talk about it Troy," Gabriella pleaded, much to his surprise.

"Really?" he questioned.

"Yes. I... I _can't_ do it right now. I just wanna spend today with you, right here, right now, and not worry about the future, okay? We can talk about..." she paused, unable to form the treacherous and tortured words on her tongue, "that... later, okay? But for right now, I just can't, Troy."

Gabriella stared her chocolate orbs in his cobalt eyes intensely, silently begging him to understand and consent to her teary plea. She couldn't explain her sudden change in response she had -typical Gabriella always wanted to be in-the-know, especially on matters that regarded Troy- but for some unknown reason and due to some unidentifiable emotion buried deep within her, Gabriella realized that the moment she learned more about Troy's situation, about his departure from her and his life, the more real it would become.

And Gabriella couldn't handle it becoming real right now.

Normally, Gabriella was strong and able to withstand virtually anything. Yes, she was insecure. Yes, she was vulnerable. Yes, she had fears. But the raven-haired beauty had been through so much in her short eighteen years of life that she knew she could consider herself a fighter - a survivor.

Normally, the writer and thirst for knowledge in her is what would posses her to need to know every inch of information about Troy's departure. To surround herself with the facts so she could better situate herself with the issue, so when the time finally came, she would not be shocked and heartbroken.

Normally.

But this was no ordinary subject, and not a normal situation. This involved Troy, this involved her whole world. And call her crazy, but Gabriella didn't want to know the exact date and time of her world's official crumbling.

She just wanted to live in the moment. She just wanted to look back on her last time with Troy, for a long time no doubt, with fondness. She didn't want to remember it as being a time of melancholy tears and unneeded anticipative uncertainty and anguish.

She just wanted Troy. Bad memories would only hinder the time they had together and make it hard for her to recall the things she cherished most about him.

She would certainly need these reminders as time went on without Troy beside her, and she waited for him to come home.

There was no question in her mind as she lay beside him, looking into his blindingly blue eyes, that she would wait for him. What other choice did she have? She loved him. There was no way she was giving that up.

"I love you, Gabriella." Troy breathed, igniting the fiery conviction within her heart of not giving up on him, on them. She could do that, right? She had faith...

She might not have Troy for the next extended period of time, but she had faith, didn't she?

Well, no.

Faith had never been a true concept to her before this, never really real because usually all she needed to make herself believe was Troy. But Troy wouldn't be there to help her believe for a long while, she realized. So she needed faith in order to be able to overcome this tragedy, this distance. She'd have to develop it, someway, somehow.

Simple, right?

But Gabriella knew she wouldn't be able to make herself believe in this like it was a piece of cake, and in the deepest depths of herself, she silently and subconsciously realized that she probably wouldn't be able to make herself believe in this at all.

But she had to try. And she couldn't let herself even consider not trying. Or failing. That couldn't happen either. She needed Troy; he was like oxygen to her. And she would do whatever it took for them to be able to be together once he inevitably left, and once he returned.

So she would have faith, from that moment on, lying in the tree house, wrapped in each other's arms and being gently caressed by Troy's fingers, all the way until he emerged from the plane and his assignment, and sprang back into her arms for good.

She didn't have faith that that would happen; she _knew_ it would. It was an inevitability.

So she would need to cultivate faith; in Troy and his commitment, mostly. And she would ignore the awful pangs of heartache and missing him until he returned.

She could do that, couldn't she? She was strong in her own right, yes, but was she strong enough to handle that?

Gabriella didn't let herself dwell on that question long enough to formulate an answer.

So Gabriella would have faith. She would. She would wait for Troy until he came home for her, and then they would spend the rest of their lives together in long-awaited bliss. And until then, they would be okay. Gabriella would be all right, and Troy would be all right. They would both be all right.

Right?

* * *

"One triple scoop strawberry for the gentleman, and one double scoop chocolate-chip for the lady. Will that be all?" a portly yet friendly man in his mid-fifties with a balding head and warm smile asked the young couple as they stood in front of the counter, eyeing the large ice cream cones he held.

"Yes, thank you," Troy replied and gingerly pulled on his wallet and handed the man a five. Troy took the delicious and dripping cones from the man and handed Gabriella hers while he carefully licked the dripping side of his. They strode out, hand in hand, into the blue sky of a beautiful day in Albuquerque.

They should have appreciated it more, but when it feels like your own personal and unavoidable Armageddon, it's a little hard to focus on the serenity of the day.

Troy and Gabriella had made their way to CeCe's ice cream parlor -an ode to simpler times with it's fifties-style decor and appliances - after surfacing from the safety of their tree house. They had said very little to one another on the way there, but talking really wasn't necessary, they just enjoyed basking in the silence and uneven breaths of their soul mate that walked beside them, not knowing how much longer they would have that privilege.

Troy had suggested ice cream out of the blue, but Gabriella was far from declining. It was one of her favorite things, and would provide much needed comfort at dire times like these.

This is where Gabriella and Troy had shared their first date three years ago- though it had not been officially one back then - but Gabriella would always consider it that. She and Troy had ordered the exact same thing that fateful night as they had this afternoon, and it oddly soothed Gabriella.

It was like the coldness of the treat was numbing her hidden pain.

"So what made you want ice cream?" Gabriella inquired Troy curiously, as they walked down the sidewalk, their hands that were unoccupied with ice cream conjoining together, fingers entangling.

"Well, mainly you." When Gabriella looked at him in confusion, he clarified. "When we first met, and you were sitting on that bench, looking so hopeless and dejected, all I could think of was how could I make you happy. Back then, it was only if I could make you laugh, or smile. Then, as I got to know you, and learned what you had been through, I got this... I don't know, compulsive need to fix you? I needed to heal you Gab, to make you feel better, and... whole, you know? Because that's how you made me feel. It was like all the crap in my life, all the stupid stuff my dad did... it all faded away when I was around you. And I just got this crazy thought, that began that night when I first met you, that if I could make you happy, then I would be happy too."

Gabriella stared into his azure eyes, taken by his words.

"And that feeling never changed. Only this time, what I need to fix... what hurt you... is me." He looked down with a pained expression, and Gabriella had every intention of making it disappear. "And I need to fix that. But I don't know how. I... this was the only thing I could think of," he motioned to CeCe's standing before them. "Because I also remember, the night I met you, when I offered to buy you ice cream you said that if the world ever comes to a screeching halt one day, you'd want ice cream before we all explode. I remembered that. And I feel like there's nothing else I can do or say to make everything better. There's nothing to fix this and I just... this is what popped into my head. Because I know, for me, I feel like my whole world just came to a screeching halt."

Gabriella stared at him still, stupefied and speechless. She felt the melted cream from her cone slide down her wrist but she didn't care. She flung herself, heart in her throat, at the man she adored more than life itself. He enveloped her in his crushing embrace, squeezing like it would be the last time.

"Oh, Troy," he could hear the wobbliness of her voice, the tears in her throat, and it killed him. How could he have been so selfish? How could he volunteer to leave her for God knows how long? What was wrong with him? He loved her! And he knew that! He couldn't be without her! It would kill him! Why was he so _stupid_?

Ah, stupidly in love, just like he always had been.

Blinded by his father to the point where nothing made sense. Easily manipulated.

That's what he was positive a shrink would say given the chance to evaluate him. _Easily manipulated_... the words had played over and over in his confused brain for the past twelve hours.

After all the fight, all the war that went on in his own home, all the lies and secrecy and rebelling... all for what? So he could disown his beliefs and his heart and break his girlfriend while doing so? It wasn't fair to her.

It wasn't fair. But he could make it partially fair.

He couldn't put her through the waiting, the not knowing. Troy had gone through that when Henry departed, and he would never wish that on anyone, let alone the person who meant the most to him. He couldn't even fathom asking her to wait for him while he departed; to put her life on hold for him while he want off and got the bad guys, was she supposed to just sit at her dining table, humming softly, waiting for the post-man to drop off his letters? Or bring her unpleasant news? He had always told himself, that if things came to this, (of course that had been a never-in-a-million-years hypothetical situation) he would let her go. He wouldn't be happy about it, in fact it would crush him, but he had to do it.

It would crush him even more to hear of her moving on without him while he was gone. He might as well warrant it before he left. Might as well set himself up for the wrecking heartbreak he would feel eventually, once she moved on. Which he knew was a selfish thing to contemplate, because he was the one breaking up with her after all. But it was inevitable; she moved on, he broke. And he would rather he break down into utter pieces than she.

Gabriella deserved to be happy, to be with someone that would at least be in the same continent with her for the next few years. After all Troy had put her through, he owed her that. He wouldn't be able to leave unless he knew she would be happy.

Troy hated doing this; not the letting her be happy, but the not being here to enjoy it with her. They were supposed to be happy _together_. They were supposed to go off and explore the world _together_.

How had things gotten so off-track?

He had been pondering over this question as they had laid wrapped in each other's arms in their tree house, trying to come up with ways to justify what he was doing but failing miserably every time.

"I love you, Troy," his girlfriend began as she brought herself back from his stone-like chest and latched their hands together, continuing their stroll. "These last few years have been... God, I don't know what I would have done without you. You've been perfect. And you've made me so happy. Please don't stop that now."

Gabriella's words nearly knocked him off his feet.

But what if... what if setting her free would actually make her miserable? What if being with him was really the thing that made her happy? What if she was telling the truth and really did love him as much as he loved her?

Then he owed it to her to be with her; to make her happy before he had to leave.

So, he may have to leave her and travel thousands of miles away for however long. He may have to only write to her everyday, and go on enduring the pain of not hearing her silky voice at all. He might have to ask her to wait for him, to not move on with her life and sacrifice a little bit of her happiness and experience a little bit of pain each day he was gone so that they could be together forever when he arrived back. So that Troy had something to come home to.

But, if he really made her happy, wasn't it truly in their best interest? Wasn't it for the greater good of Gabriella and himself? Of their love?

And people had underwent worse things when it came to the battles of love, right? And wasn't there a saying that said, 'love knows no distance'? They could just abide by that rule for the endless lonesome days that were to come. That wasn't too much to ask.

Was it?

Troy didn't allow himself to linger too much on that thought, and see all the flaws that came with his reasoning.

Troy gave up this argument he was having within himself because it was easier. Because he was tired. Because he wanted this discussion to be over once and for all. Because he was a little selfish, and because he wanted to please everybody.

He suddenly felt this overwhelming, tingling sensation of deja vu.

And as Gabriella and Troy continued their peaceful and placid stroll through East Eden's Albuquerque park, trading loving smiles and flirty glances, they eventually came upon their favorite restaurant, the Albuquerque Malt Shop. The happy and madly in love couple took their seats, sitting side by side in one booth, so they didn't have to split apart their conjoined hands. They ordered and ate, Troy pecking Gabriella on her pink lips every now and then, just so he could taste the saltiness from her french fries on her curvaceous mouth.

And not once during their lovely hours together did Troy allow himself to drift off into his complicated thoughts or reasoning on the matter of him and Gabriella, or else the guilt that he would have undoubtedly felt once mulling over the topic would have invaded his entire being, the error of his thinking confining him to an overcoming feeling of shame that would have seeped through him and into his veins.

But Troy didn't even give his decision to be with Gabriella another thought. He whisked her, heart in his hands, back to her house and kissed her soundly good night. He walked home, rosy cheeked and breathless, feeling hope inside his chest that maybe this situation would work out after all.

Maybe, as awful and depressing as all this was, would be okay. Maybe he didn't have to pretend, and he didn't have to give up the one thing that made his life worthwhile.

Maybe it would all work itself out.

Maybe.

Troy let himself into the house, not even considering the fact that all the 'maybes' so far in his life had turned into big, fat impossibilities.

* * *

Gabriella opened the cream-colored front door quietly, as if not to disturb, when she entered her enormous house, noticing the tidiness of the grand living room and the sweeping ceilings that stood high above her.

But most of all she noticed the silence. The eerie, passive, all-too-familiar hush of nothingness that Gabriella had become all-too-accustomed to.

Sure, most teenagers loved having the house to themselves. A house not only unoccupied without parental supervision, but with a stocked and unlocked liquor cabinet, a massive flat screen and backyard? Hell yeah!

Except not for Gabriella. She would have given anything to have a night -just one night- where she could come home from a date with Troy or a hard day at school where her mother was already home with dinner cooking on the stove and a warm, understanding smile on her face.

Actually, she didn't even need the warm smile or heated stove, her mother could be standing there with three microwave-able meals in her hand and steam coming out of her ears for all Gabriella cared, as long as she was actually_ home_.

Gabriella walked into the decorated living area and examined it. She took in the soft beige, almost off-white couch and sofa, sitting side by side in the breezy living room. She took in the gray blanket that draped over the back of the three person couch, laying there wistfully, waiting for someone to use it. The brown wooden coffee table that sat directly in front of the couch held no coffee ring stains, no scratches whatsoever. Ironic enough, the coffee table that was supposed to collect wear and tear, have maybe one or two coffee ring stains, maybe a chip in would here or there, and perhaps an empty coffee mug on the side, held no such things. In the all the years they had owned it, all it had collected was dust.

Ironically sad, but painfully true, Gabriella saw the same room age but no one age in it. She saw the house get older, maybe a dining room chair got rickety, but not because of use, because of age. Making memories was just that: memories. She could not remember the last time her family of three had gathered for something she could honestly say she would remember in five years. All the happy things in her life now revolved around Troy and her friends, mostly.

Tragedy brought some families together, yes, but not hers. Her mother had shriveled up in her bed for two months after her father died, refusing to get out to even eat dinner with her daughters, then only the tentative age of ten and eight. After that, it had been go-go-go for her mother. She had sped off into the act of moving on without even giving her daughters a second glance.

And as much as Gabriella sought to forget that, to put it out of her mind and picture happier times, it would always be blatantly slammed in her face every time she was faced with an empty house.

Mainly because it would remind her how she had always felt -before Troy came along anyways- after her father passed and her family life died: empty.

Her eyes took in even more of the exquisite room as she put her purse on the coffee table, and turned on a lamp to brighten up the room. Give it some happiness.

The walls were painted a kind of dull gray-blue that the interior designer who had decorated their house had described as_ 'very in'_. Gabriella called it _'very in grief'_ because her mother had had these walls painted right after her father passed away, as if painting the rooms different in-style colors would cover over the holes in their new life.

It had taken her mother forty-three years to learn what Gabriella knew when she was ten:

You can't cover up the scars in your heart, you couldn't pretend that things were going to be okay just because they looked that way from the outside.

Sometimes you just had to face it. You had to march right into the ugly, hideous middle whether you liked it or not.

She would just have to face that her life would be quiet for the next... however long. She would wake up to silence, come home to silence, and go to bed with silence. She would have no Troy to brighten up her life, to fill her ears with sound, so to speak.

In other words, she would be empty. Again.

Sure, she still had her friends and her sister, Ellie, but having Troy with her was different. He filled her up in this amazing and unexplainable way, and just having him around to talk to, even if just for a moment, seemed to make her day. Things were easy with Troy. Three years ago, nearly to the day, he had healed her. What if when he went away she broke again? What if when he left for God knows how long, she felt empty again? Could she really bear that? Did she really want to? Did she have a choice?

_Yes,_ a little voice -and she had no idea where it came from- said inside her. _Yes, you do._

Gabriella pushed the tiny, incessant voice from her thoughts and walked upstairs to her bedroom. She brushed her pearly white teeth and tucked herself in, waiting for the hushing lullaby of the crickets and birds outside her window -which were making a ruckus compared to her entire household- to sing her to sleep. But instead of being carried off into a peaceful slumber like she was hoping for, these persistent and relentless thoughts invaded her mind quicker than a skilled extractor.

First, the thoughts only questioned her, inquiring of her strength and her relationship's stability. How could she really go on without Troy? What was she supposed to do while he was gone? Wait patiently by the telephone for a rare call, or by the window so she could see when the post-man stopped by with a letter from her love? Could she really do that? There was no question that her love for Troy could withstand the distance, but could her heart? Could she really survive that long with a piece of it missing?

The thought scared her -or, more accurately, the answer. So she pressed her eyelids tight together, letting a few tears escape, and chided herself for even letting the deathly thought slip into her mind. And she fell asleep, not to the soothing sound of crickets singing, but to the merciless thoughts spiraling out of control in her brain, like a kite being guided up in the windy and cold air, falling, falling, falling until it met the unforgiving and solid ground.

And when Gabriella woke up, she knew she had hit the ground.


End file.
